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Message-ID: <51629asstr$1122765005@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Sharmila Sanyal" <anu_g42@hotmail.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Reposting "My Story" parts 11 to 18
Lines: 2589
Date: Sat, 30 Jul 2005 19:10:05 -0400
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d


I have received a couple of emails indicating that the parts 11 onwards were 
not available on the web.  I thought I saw them last week.  The FTP site of 
the ASSTR must be still down, since I myself have not been able to upload 
these parts to my site.  I don't have time to set up any web site at the 
ASSTR, and so I will keep posting directly to the ASSM group.  I hope you 
will be able to read them there.

These parts have been edited slightly with minor corrections and 
alterations.  I left all the intros intact from the original postings.

Feedbacks are appreciated, as always, with a sub heading "My Story", or a 
similar easily recognizable phrase.  Otherwise they go to the trash.

Regards

SS

<1st attachment, "MS11.TXT" begin>

I rely on my readers to find the mistakes, and email me at their  
convenience.  I sincerely appreciate any feed-back.  I reply to  almost 
every mail, but, often, personal schedule does keep me  from being prompt.  
Even if you do not receive an  acknowledgment from my end, please know that 
your comments,  critiques, and corrections are immensely appreciated.

Please write at <anu_g42@hotmail.com>.

NOTE: Please visit my 'ftp' site at asstr-mirror.org's Authors section  to read the 
previous parts.

WARNING: Do not proceed beyond this "warning" if you are not a  mature 
person, and/or are offended by explicit written  descriptions of sexual 
encounters!

******************************************



My Story (Part 11)

by Sharmila Sanyal

	I woke up feeling rather warm, and sweaty, and it was still  dark.  It took 
me a few seconds to remember that I was in a  strange place.  I was on my 
side, my knees folded up.  I felt a  warm breath on my chest.

	There were about fifty people among the bride's family, and friends who 
were invited to the reception at the groom's  house.  After the reception, 
Chhordi wanted Sanjay, her  best friend, Sumitra-di, and me to stay, and 
spend the night at her new  home.  I guess she had started to feel homesick 
already, and knowing  that we would be close by --  even if it was for one 
night -- gave her a sense of security  among virtual strangers.  It was not 
a big house.  Indeed, it  was rather small considering that Subhash-da's 
parents, his  younger brother, and a sister all lived there.  They had three 
  rooms, of which one was being taken up by the newlywed couple.   The two 
neighbors had set up their houses for the overnight  guests.  Subhash-da's 
mother wanted us to stay in their room,  but we all convinced her that we 
would be perfectly OK in the  drawing room.  There were a few others there, 
and the three of  us had staked our claim in one corner.

	A big rug, covered with two layers of heavy linen, was  laid down on the 
floor;, and pillows were graciously lent out by  all the neighboring 
families.  It was past midnight before we  let the newlyweds go to their 
room for their "Honeymoon" night.   Some of the other girls were giggling as 
the two exited the  drawing room.  I was wondering if the expectation that 
they  would consummate their relationship wasn't rather revolting.

	The thought of the very ritualistic nature of two virtual  strangers 
engaging in intercourse turned me off.  Whether it  was their unfamiliarity 
with each other, or the thought of them  knowing that they were supposed to 
be doing this regularly, but  only with each other, I couldn't feel very 
excited about them.   We talked, and we laughed about things insignificant, 
and, before  long, I had drifted off to sleep.

	My sleep was interrupted by a warm breath on my chest.  I  opened my eyes, 
and tried to recognize the head that was almost  nudged up against my 
breasts.  The aanchal of my saree having  shifted off, I could feel the 
breathing directly on my skin.   It was a humid night, and I felt rather 
uncomfortable.  After a  moment's hesitation, even as I was going to try, 
and push the  head away, I felt something else.  It was against my knees . . 
  . a hard, and warm something!  I froze, and realized that it was  Sanjay 
-- my handsome adolescent cousin.

	He was between me, and the wall I was facing.  That  had  been the 
arrangement on our make-shift community bed, I  remembered.  My back was 
turned towards Sumitra-di.  Instantly,  I recognized the feel of the 
'thing'.  Regular commuting in  crowded buses had been quite educative in 
that respect.  By the  time I was totally awake, I knew that he was awake 
too.  He was  awkwardly lying on his side in a crouched form with his hard  
adolescent manhood against my knees.  I could feel the heat  from his 
excited state through his jaangia, and his dhoti --, and  through my sari, 
and petticoat!

	My instinctive reaction was that of total shock.  As I  became more aware 
of what was going on, the 'big sister' in me  wanted to put a stop to it.  
But the lascivious teen in me set  off a debate inside my head.  I could 
pretend to wake up  suddenly, stretch, and turn . . . away from him.  On the 
other  hand, I could submit myself to the dictate of my libidinous  nature, 
and keep feigning sleep.  For several long minutes I  could not decide 
either way;, and then the "naughty sister"  prevailed.  I lay there feeling 
my cousin's hard cock being  rhythmically pressed against my knee, while my 
own body slowly  started responding with unmistakable signs of arousal.

	Sanjay moved with amazing gentleness, the tempo  deliberately slow, his 
breathing -- on the valley between my  breasts -- heavy, yet controlled.  In 
spite of myself, I was  marveling at his effort to keep his masturbation 
against me  almost imperceptible.  Indeed, but for his temptation of  
getting his face close to my chest, in all probability, I would  still have 
been asleep.  It was dark inside the room, and I  could not see him move . . 
. not even a sound!  I simply felt  his rubbing . . . no, pressing . . . of 
the length of his  hardness in a slow rhythm that matched his breathing.

	While the sheer bawdiness of what was going on drove me  wild, I decided to 
lay still, just as I was, and let him have  his pleasure.  The humid warmth 
of Sanjay's breaths on my flesh  sent flashes of heat down my body, and to 
the pulsating tunnel  between my legs.  I was well out of my frozen state, 
but I  couldn't even flex my thighs -- a maneuver that would have let  me 
take care of the fire between them.  I was afraid to let my  adolescent 
cousin feel any movement.  I wanted him to continue  with what he was doing. 
  I wanted to feel him reach his goal.   I lay there motionless -- my teeth 
clenched -- while Sanjay  increased his pace ever so slightly.  His 
motionless head  directly under my chin, and the smell of his hair sent 
waves  of desire down between my thighs.  I felt my cunt filling up  with 
juice.  I silently prayed for the strength to help me control  the impulse 
building up inside me: The immense urge to quit  being a silent, 
undiscovered participant was getting ever so stronger with each passing 
moment.  Oh! How I wished  Sanjay would actually bury his face between my 
breasts.  I  wished he would take my aching, taut, nipples between his  
teeth.  I wished I could reach out, and grab his hard cock, and  jerk him 
off.  I wished a lot of things -- but I dared not act  upon them.  The 'big 
sister' in me kept my libido from completely taking  over my senses.

	He carried on, and on, and on, breaking off his contact  with me every now 
and then, presumably to prolong his pleasure.   Sometimes he just left his 
cock pressed against me, and I could  feel it pulsate.  After what seemed to 
be an eternity to me, he  increased the pressure, while the rhythm faltered 
. . . and I felt  the thing heave . . . and throb!  He turned his head away 
from my  breast, and let out an audible gasp.  He pushed it a little harder 
against my knees this time, perhaps momentarily forced  to lose his 
constraint at the peak of his urgency.  He left it  pressed against me as it 
pulsated some more . . ., and then I felt it  slowly lose its hardness.

	Sanjay pulled himself back gently, and turned away from me  on his side.  I 
didn't move, waiting till I heard his breathing  become regular as a sign of 
his falling asleep again.   Somewhere far away, a clock struck three times . 
. . the faint  sound barely audible.

	I had to go to the bathroom.  I waited some more, making  absolutely sure 
that my cousin was peacefully asleep before I  got up.  As I stood up, I 
could feel the crotch of my panties  sticking to my sex.  I tip-toed 
carefully out of the room.  I too needed to take care of the fire between my 
legs in the  bathroom.  I have had strangers rub against me in crowded 
buses.  While  not everybody managed to climax, with those that did, I had  
become quite adept at detecting male climax just by the nature, and the 
rhythm of the pulsations.  Regardless, I must admit  that I would usually 
feel a little aroused myself from such  lewdness (and, I have serious doubts 
in the veracity of claims  to the contrary).  But, this experience was so 
very different!   There was none of the namelessness, what with him being my 
"brother", and it was only a couple of days back that I was  shamefully 
enjoying a bodily contact with him!

	After emptying my bladder, I stood up, and leaned against  the wall.  It 
did not take too much to attain a blissfully  simple climax.  A few strokes 
-- with my index -- across the  swollen labia brushing over my seat of 
excitement . . ., and I  came with a short shudder.  I rested a minute or 
two, and headed  back to the drawing room.  I was still in a state of 
confusion  about what had just transpired.  It was different, too, in that  
I hardly felt satisfied -- not even after having had an orgasm  in the 
bathroom!

	I could not go back to sleep easily.  With Sanjay  sleeping beside me, my 
lurid thoughts raced uncontrollably  through my mind.  I had to sleep, I 
thought;, and, with that, in  a very deliciously fragile state, I promised 
myself a reward  before I headed back to Calcutta.  The resolution seemed to 
  work, and I slept like a log till Sanjay woke me up around  eight.

	Staring at him in the dull light of a monsoon morning, I  realised that I 
had stepped on a very slippery stone when I  wasn't looking.

+++++++++++++ (End Part 11).

(To be Continued)
<1st attachment end>


<2nd attachment, "MS12.TXT" begin>

The Story continues, as it had appeared originally, in this repost.  There 
are some corrections, and modifications, though:
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


I was away during the holidays.  I had to take a trip after that.  So, I 
have not been able to stick to my original schedule of finishing the touches 
on this one.  I had intended to post the entire part 12, but could only 
finish half of it.  So the next part will appear soon as 'Part 13'.  I 
promise.  I have about fifty letters that I must reply to, and I hope you 
will bear with me if I did not respond to all of them at once.  Those that 
sent me letters of reproach, I urge you to please refrain from reading 'My 
Story' or any subsequent one that I may post.  Nobody held a gun to your 
head, and asked you to read this.  Obviously the "Female, and Indian" part 
befuddled those that never imagined that "sex" is not an exclusively male 
urge among Indians!  BTW, no, I believe none of us make money writing here.  
I, like many others, write erotica (not "smuts") for pleasure.  Appreciation 
from the reader is our reward.

Please write at <anu_g42@hotmail.com> with (sensible, not moral) comments, 
and corrections.



NOTE: Please visit my 'ftp' site at asstr-mirror.org's Authors section to read the 
previous parts if you have missed the recent re-post of the Parts 1-11.

WARNING: Do not proceed beyond this "warning" if you are not a mature 
person, and/or are offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual 
encounters (narrated by an "Indian Woman")!

******************************************



My Story (Part 12) by Sharmila Sanyal.

	We were to stay at my aunt's for four more days.  Sanjay was acting a 
little different since that night's self-gratification.  The next morning, 
when he woke me up, he seemed more up-beat than usual.  I had smiled at him, 
and he seemed to have looked at my eyes a little longer than necessary.  I 
took it as an attempt at finding out if I knew. I played along, and behaved 
quite normally with him. That is not to say that I wasn't feeling rather 
lightheaded every time the previous night's incident surfaced in my mind.

	In spite of myself, I was helplessly in a state of mild arousal all day.  
What -- one may wonder -- is a 'mild arousal'!  I am finding it rather 
impossible to describe the state.  I walked around with a constant wetness 
between my legs, and with a very sensitive feeling all over my body that 
translated into goose bumps at the slightest breeze.  I smiled when smiled 
to; I talked when needed; but my mind was filled with the sensation of 
Sanju's hardness against my knee.

	Chhordi's mother-in-law wouldn't let us leave without having lunch, and so 
we ended up staying till the sun went down.  I was exhausted from all the 
talking, and socializing the whole day; but, I liked Subhash-da's family.  
They were very unpretentious, educated people that didn't have to stand on 
any ceremonies.  They were the kind of people that made  you feel as if you 
have known them your entire life.  The brother, Sudeep, and the sister, 
Mithu, were in their early twenties, and were very intelligent, and witty.  
So, we became quite friendly, and Mithu took extra care to make us all feel 
at home as long as we were there.  We bid good-bye with the customary 
promises to see each other at the earliest opportunity.

	That night, I excused myself from supper, and went to bed very early.  I 
was exhausted from the unresolved excitement I had been carrying around.  I 
could have relieved that while taking the shower, but some weird sense of 
morality, at fantasizing about Sanju's privates, kept me from seeking the 
gratification I so urgently needed.  Unbelievable as it might sound, I fell 
asleep as soon as I hit the bed, and slept like a log till the next morning.

	Almost everybody left the following morning.  My two brothers also had to 
get back to Calcutta for something, and they took off right after lunch.

	A little later, I found myself wandering down the verandah on the upper 
floor, and towards the room in the corner.  I knew it was Sanjay's.  My 
brothers had been sharing it with him.

	I swear there was absolutely no forethought to it.  I was feeling lazy 
after a heavy lunch, and wanted to find a quiet room to try, and lie down 
for a while.  My room was on the same floor but the guests that stayed with 
me were preparing to leave, and were packing their luggage.  I did not find 
the thought of hanging around them, and making conversation very appealing.  
The sky was overcast, and it was drizzling; otherwise, it would have been a 
perfect afternoon to be lounging by the pond.  It was messy downstairs.  The 
servants, cooks, and the ladies were still running around in an apparent 
attempt at bringing things back in order.  So, I sought a logical refuge 
upstairs.

	It was rather unmindfully, I must say, that I entered Sanjay's room.  The 
door was open, and there was nobody inside.  His bed, neatly made up, was 
against the wall to my right.  His study desk, with a pile of books, stood 
against the far wall under the window.  A clothes-rack, and a couple of 
bookshelves took up most of the left wall.  In comparison to the other rooms 
in that house, his was of rather modest dimensions.  Although he definitely 
had help from the house maids, I could tell that he was quite a tidy lad for 
his age -- especially when I mentally compared his den with that of my two 
brothers!  I was impressed.

	The window was open, and the moist air filled the room.  I felt rather 
relaxed as I sat down on his bed, and grabbed one of his books from his 
study table.  It was Rabindranath Tagore's 'Sh�sh�r Kobitaa'.  I had read it 
a number of times before, and it is still one of my most favorites among his 
vast repertoire of works.  I was further impressed by Sanjay's taste in 
literature when I looked at his bookshelves, and found them stacked with 
literary works from Shakespeare to Henry Miller, and from Bankim Chatterjee 
to such contemporary Bengali writers as Samaresh Basu, and Muztaba Ali.

	I walked over to the shelves, and started looking at the titles.  I was 
picking some out at random, and putting them back when on one of the bottom 
shelves - sandwiched between the complete works of Shakespeare, and the 
unabridged Chamber's - I chanced upon a small stack of smaller books that 
didn't quite fit the bill.  They stood out by their size -- however 
diminutive --, and in their appearance.  Unlike the other books on the 
shelves, they had newspaper covers.  Hands shaking, I took the bunch out, my 
sixth sense already having made me aware of their subject.  I had started to 
breathe heavy even as I glanced back at the door, and opened one of them!

	It was a Bengali book, and my sixth sense was right on the money.  I 
glanced through the pages, and opened the next one.  It was a similar one, 
describing, in rather raw details, the encounter between the master of the 
house, and the maid.  My head had started to reel already.  I think it had 
more to do with the knowledge that the books were for Sanjay's pleasure than 
with their contents.  The tension in my body, held over from the day before, 
returned with double the intensity.  I felt the surge down below . . . 
between my legs.  Assuredly, it wasn't a mild arousal!  I was skimming 
through the raunchy stories, and imagining the adolescent owner of the books 
engaged in masturbation while reading the very same ones . . .

	It was most certainly not a mild arousal!  Thinking about Sanjay reading 
those books, and masturbating, mixed with my experience a couple of nights 
ago, had really fired up my imagination.  In my sexual fantasyland, where 
the concept of inhibition is non-existent, I was playing with myself as he 
looked on.

	I am not sure how long I had been just standing there flipping through them 
--, and dripping -- when a figure appeared at the doorway.  I was standing 
slightly at an angle with my back toward the door, but I sensed the 
presence, and froze.

"Shona-di!" It was Sanjay!

	 So, I froze, rudely brought back to the real world by that "Shona-di".

	Once the initial stupor had passed, I turned, and faced the doorway -- the 
collection of books still in hand, of course.

"Oh . . . Sanju . . . I was just . . ." I stammered out a few words.

"What? Which are . . .? Oh Shona-di . . . you should not be looking at those 
books!" Sanjay, clad only in a towel across his loin that covered him from 
his waist to the knees, looked quite embarrassed as he spoke stepping into 
his room.  He had just had a shower.  I did not see him around during lunch, 
and thought he might have gone somewhere.  He had; and was in the bathroom 
when we were having lunch.

"No? Why?" I asked in a detached voice . . . I had to buy some time to get 
my bearing back.

"Those are . . . those are . . ." Sanjay stepped closer, and tried to grab 
them from me.  "Please," he said, "give them back to me."

	I could smell the soap on him.  I had, of course, seen his bare torso 
before; that is not something a girl gets excited about in India . . . I 
think.  It is not against any social etiquette for boys his age to go around 
sans chemise.  But, predictably enough, I was feeling a familiar tingling in 
my brain seeing him like that.

"Why can't I see them?" I swung my hand, that was holding the books, behind 
me, and asked in a demanding tone.

	He stood about, and inch from me as his right hand reached around - rather 
instinctively - in an attempt to grab the books again.  It was too close.  
My chest touched his . . ., and a spark shot through my already vulnerable 
body.  I held my breath for an instant, and pushed him away with my free 
hand.  He stumbled back a few steps towards the bed, his legs hitting the 
edge of his cot, making him sit down.

	The towel parted somewhat, exposing the fare skin of one of his thighs.  I 
tried to reason with myself that what I was experiencing was wrong . . . 
totally wrong.  Not only was he my first cousin, he was three years younger.

	He was looking at me with quite a perplexed expression.  I guess he was 
trying to gauge the situation.  Here I was -- the object of his lust -- 
standing a few feet from him with a bunch of books that he used for his own 
private pleasure, and I wasn't looking distressed at all.

	I am not sure if he sensed my excitement; but, as my gaze quite 
involuntarily drifted towards the parted towel, I had to look away 
immediately.  He was showing an obvious sign of arousal . . . the towel was 
not lying flat across his lap!  In spite of myself, I had to chance another 
quick glance in that general direction, and, I swear, I saw the towel heave 
a few times.

'What's next? What should I be doing now? Should I leave, and pretend that I 
didn't become a part of this, or should I surrender to my prurient impulse?' 
I was debating in my head -- a head, by then rather hypoxic.

"Have you seen the inside of those books?" Sanjay broke the few seconds of 
silence.

"Eh . . .?" again I bought some time to compose my thoughts with that 
monosyllabic response.

"Did you . . . read them?" He asked.

"Well . . . a little bit." I tried to sound matter-of-fact as I struggled to 
look away from his lap.

"OK . . . you don't have to read any more." Sanjay said as he stood up from 
the bed.  He shouldn't have.  Strange how a very simple action -- somebody 
standing up -- can be so fateful!

+++++++++++++ End Part 12

(To be Continued)
<2nd attachment end>


<3rd attachment, "MS13.TXT" begin>

The 'repost' continues, with corrections and modifications:
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++



THANK YOU FOR YOUR PATIENCE.

Please write at <anu_g42@hotmail.com> with (sensible, not moral) comments 
and corrections.

NOTE: Please visit my 'ftp' site at asstr-mirror.org's Authors section to read the 
previous parts if.

WARNING: Do not proceed beyond this "warning" if you are not a mature person 
and/or are offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual encounters.

******************************************





My Story (Part 13) by Sharmila Sanyal.

	Sanjay's excitement was just too obvious not to notice.  The front of the 
meager towel was raised considerably.  He didn't try to hide it from me!  It 
was a strange affront that I rather enjoyed.  I considered for a moment and 
said, "Why shouldn't I? Obviously you do!"

"That's different.  I'm . . . I'm . . ."

"A boy?" I said as I walked over to the door and closed it shut from inside.

"What . . .?" There was uncertainty in his voice.

	I spun around and leisurely walked over to his bed.  I sat down on it and 
held the books out for him.  As he stood in front of me and reached out to 
grab them from my out-stretched hand, his engorged manhood visibly twitched 
under the towel . . . and right in front of my eyes.

"Why did you close the door?" He was still unsure about what would 
transpire.

"What happens . . . you didn't answer my question . . . what'd happen if I 
did read them?" I was in a mischievous mood and was hurtling towards the 
point of no return at a break-neck speed.

"Go away, Shona-di!  I don't know .  .  ." Sanju was beginning to comprehend 
my drift.

"But, I know what happens to men .  .  ." and, with that, my eyes quite 
instinctively drifted towards the subject I so 'cleverly' referred to.  
Sanju followed my glance and spun away from me.

"O my God!  Shona-di . . . I'm . . . I'm . . ." Sanju stuttered, "I really 
didn't . . . !"

"That's OK, Sanju," I tried to mollify, "but how did that happen without 
even reading these?" I tried to make my interest sound very academic.  I was 
also quite puzzled by his apparent unawareness of the futility of a moist 
towel at keeping such biological responses from an onlooker.  I rationalized 
it as being an oversight during his preoccupation with the situation.  He 
seemed to have momentarily forgotten that he had only a towel on.

"I . . . I . . ." Sanju was still facing the window; and I was fighting a 
loosing battle to keep my wits about me.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," I said, "don't forget that I'm a medical 
student and I have seen everything." Of course that wasn't completely true 
-- that thing about seeing everything, I mean.  Cadavers hardly ever 
responded in that fashion.  It did relax him slightly and he turned around.  
The towel was not riding on his manhood anymore.  Nonetheless, the limpness 
of the used towel did afford a pretty good approximation of his engorged 
member.  I must say that the ample suggestion of Sanju's 'thing' did not 
help me cool down.  I could almost feel my own heart beat.

"So, would you please leave? I'll have to put some clothes on." Sanju seemed 
determined to get rid of me.

"But, don't you have to take care of that too?" yes, I was too far gone to 
be delicate in my approach.

"Take care of what!?" There was a shocked stupefaction in his voice.

"Don't be coy, Sanju," I calmly pointed out, "as if you don't know what I'm 
talking about."

"But . . . but . . . Shona-di!" His face was red -- and his poorly concealed 
member started betraying his comprehension.

"What 'but'?" I pressed on.

"Surely . . . you don't . . . OK!" He tried to smile and added, "OK, go 
outside and I'll take care of this." He gestured, with his eyes, towards the 
rapidly re-developing hard-on under his towel.  I could tell that it had 
become hard (. . . now, there is a pun for you) for him to keep his 'thing' 
from turning into an embarrassment.  To him, I was still an elder 'sister'.

"Why do I need to go out?"

"Shona-di!"

"Well, you didn't ask me to wake up and go out -- the other night!" I 
dropped the bomb, and immediately detected his embarrassment lose its 
vigour.  He would not -- in a million years -- have suspected that I was 
awake while he derived pleasure from my proximity.

"Shon . . . what!  What are you talking about?" He whispered incredulously.

	I looked straight at his eyes and explained . . . as succinctly as I could. 
  He sat back on the bed with his face covered between his palms, his 
adolescent cock completely limp by then.  For a few moments there was a 
palpable silence in the room.

"Oh my!  I am sorry, Shona-di," he spoke from between his palms, "I'll never 
do it again, please . . . please do not say anything to Ma or Baba." I 
detected a slight tremor in his voice and I quickly put his fears to rest.

"Are you crazy?" I said as I slid up beside him on the bed, "I wasn't going 
to tell anybody."

"You weren't?" He looked up and at me with more puzzlement in his eyes.

I rested a hand on his back (and it sent a shiver down my body) and softly 
said, "No, silly rogue!  In fact it felt rather nice!" God, I was impatient! 
  "And what am I going to tell . . . that I let you do it against me?"

"Why . . . I mean . . . why did you?" Sanju sounded perplexed as he wondered 
aloud.

"Why do you think?" my response was a noncommittal whisper.

"What?!  Really?" Sanju's excitement was starting to show again as he asked 
a second time, "Really . . . you . . . you liked it?"

"Hmmm .  .  ." I nodded.

"So, what now?" Sanju said in a much relaxed voice.

"I don't know; this is your room and you do what you want to." I found 
myself saying in an undertone.

"In front of you?" Sanju sounded unsure, if with a hint of anticipation.

"Well . . ." I paused and took the final leap, "I could help . . . you know 
. . . "

"Help? O my God!  Shona-di .  .  ." no longer bothering to hide his arousal, 
Sanju fell back on the bed, his feet still on the floor.  The towel parted 
from the side, completely baring his right leg from his waist down.  His 
manhood was now in full erection, pushing the towel up between his legs.  I 
saw it twitch again!

"You want me to?" I was clearly seducing my fifteen-year-old cousin.  His 
handsome looks had lit my fire already, for which I had silently censured 
myself before.  Now, with the naughtiness developing in just the past 
fifteen minutes or so, the reason for self-criticism seemed to have 
disappeared.  I reasoned with myself that Sanju was old enough to enjoy sex, 
so I was not the corrupter!

	I was breathing so heavy and shallow that I felt hypoxic.  I had to draw in 
a deep one just to keep myself from passing out.  I stood up and stepped up 
to the window.  There were rips in the smoky clouds overhead, letting some 
sunlight stream through.  Down below, the small canopy and the enclosure for 
the cooking was finally being taken down by two men.  I drew the curtain 
shut.  It only covered the lower two- thirds of the window and was not even 
heavy.  Indeed, one could see through the material.  But, it gave me a sense 
of privacy.

"Want to read some of this?" I heard Sanju ask and I turned around.  He was 
lying on the bed with his head resting on the only pillow.  He held one of 
the books open in front of his eyes.  I looked again at his towel.

	It was gone!  His erection had completely disappeared!  How could that be? 
There was not even the trace of you-know-what where it had stood like the 
centre-pole of a tent.  Needless to say that I was not a little perplexed.  
Here I was, titillated to no end at the knowledge that my proximity in the 
room had brought about the enviable effect on my adolescent cousin, while it 
appeared that he needed some added stimulation from the books.

"What happened to you?" I couldn't help inquiring.

"What?" Sanju looked up at me.

"There?" I pointed out.

"Nothing . . . Oh, I see." He chuckled and uncrossed his legs.  The 'thing' 
popped back up, standing up in attention as before -- holding the towel like 
a tent.  I laughed out.  "So, do you want to read this story?" He asked 
again.

"Do you?" I asked back.

"I like this one." Sanju handed me the book with the page open.  I was 
glancing through that one a while back and, I must admit, it caught my fancy 
and started me flowing.  It was about the 'boy and the maid'.  The 
attractive maid discovers the son of her employer, on the roof of the house, 
masturbating.  She forgets her chores and approaches the boy with a 
proposition that he cannot refuse.  Later, I have had fantasies about such 
incidents; and maybe, time permitting, I will post the translation.

	I had no need for any raunchy story.  I wanted to see Sanju masturbate.  I 
handed back the book to him and said, "You read if you have to." I then sat 
down beside him on the bed and looked at his towel again.

"Do it .  .  ." I said.

"You really are serious, aren't you?"

"Sanju!  Are you trying to be coy again?" I was perplexed.  Perhaps, he was 
trying to be absolutely sure.  I later realized that it was quite natural.  
After all, from what he told me later, it was literally his dream come true. 
  "I just want to see how you do it." I added, standing up, once again 
trying to make my interest in it sound rather academic.  However, I could 
not hide the urgency in my voice from myself.

"OK . . . if you insist." Sanju, too, took the cue from me and tried to 
sound disinterested in the action; as if the demonstration that was about to 
follow was purely for my benefit.

	He turned over on his stomach and -- with the book open in front of him -- 
started to move his buttocks very slowly.  Reading the story silently, he 
moved with a back and forth motion . . . slowly, very slowly.  I could see 
that he enjoyed every stroke as he mentally stimulated himself with the 
titillating story.  I enjoyed watching the ripples on his bare back and bare 
legs.  With each of his simulated coital thrust, my vaginal muscles were 
contracting and the distended nub between my legs was begging to be touched 
. . . to be sucked . . . to be squeezed.

Suddenly -- the visual delight notwithstanding -- I felt insulted and left 
out!  I was being ignored!  I felt marginalized by that book, and I decided 
to act on it.

"Sanju," I sat down beside him and said, "is that the only way you do it?" I 
was curious, too.  He stopped moving and put the book down.  He turned his 
head to look at my eyes.  I saw a boldness in his eyes that was missing 
earlier -- and it was exciting!

"Hmm," he moaned out his answer.  I saw his jaw clench as he looked at me 
with unmistakable lust in his eyes.

"I thought . . . boys also use their hands .  .  ." I threw a suggestion 
tentatively.

"Yeah . . . but I usually do it this way." He started to rock again.

"I want you to use your hand."

"Why?" He exhaled.

"I want to." I was breathing heavily too.

"Nnno." He continued to thrust, but his rhythm had slowed considerably.  He 
was holding his breath with each forward thrust and I could see his muscles 
flex.

"Why not?"

"Because . . . nnnggg . . . I can't . . . now . . . this way it . . . feels 
good."

"I can do it for you . . . if you like," I said desperately without 
thinking.

"Go away!" He stopped.  "Are you serious?"

"Hm, hmm." I nodded.

	Sanju turned around and sat up cross-legged on the bed.  The towel was no 
longer secured properly at his waist.  His erection pushing the towel up, 
his right leg was now completely bare.

I reached out with my left hand and placed it on his cock tentatively.  I 
felt it jump a couple of times under the towel.  I clenched my teeth to keep 
me from going insane between my legs.  I was feeling the crotch of my 
panties clinging to my cunt lips.  I mustered my courage and crossed the 
invisible mental barrier.  I grabbed his cock in my fist from above the 
towel.

"Nnnnnnngh . . . aaaah . . . no .  .  ." Sanju closed his eyes and put is 
head back as he groaned.  My first!  The first cock I grabbed ever!  It was 
hard as a rock!  It was thick!  I could feel its heat through the towel.  I 
did not dare uncover it.  I wasn't sure if I would like to look at it.  It 
wasn't Sanju's cock that I cared for, it was Sanju's beautiful body -- 
half-naked -- that I wanted to pleasure.  The cock was just a medium to me 
that afternoon.

"Like it?" I asked as I moved my fist up and down along the length of his 
penis.

"Oh . . . Oh . . ." Sanju opened his eyes and looked down where his lusty 
cousin held him.  "Nnnnngggghh . . . Shona-di . . . yessss . . . my God!"

"You may lie down if you want .  .  ." I looked at his face and smiled.  I 
think I was afraid to let any other kind of tension take the place of this 
wonderful tension of forbidden contact.

"This . . . is . . . fine," Sanju panted. Stretching his legs out and 
supporting his torso with his hands, he reclined slightly back.  I did not 
let go of the warm hardness that was throbbing in my fist.

"Shall I hold it tighter?" I asked.  I was educating myself!

"If you like .  .  ." He breathed out his response through his clenched 
teeth and closed his eyes.  Then, as if remembering suddenly, he said, 
"Shona-di .  .  ."

"Hmm?" I looked at his eyes.

"Shona-di . . . what about you?" He was also looking at my eyes directly, 
perhaps trying to understand my needs.  I thought that was sweet of him.

"What about me?" I asked demurely.

"I mean . . . you know . . . don't you . . . aren't you . . .?" He didn't 
know how to ask the obvious.

"Yes!  I am." I said with a weary smile.  Boy!  Was I ever!

"Will you . . . I . . . I . . . aaaahhhhng .  .  ." he could not finish what 
he started to say as I had started to massage his manhood in earnest. His 
moan was rather loud in my ears.

"Shhhh .  .  ." I gestured with my right hand as I kept up my up and down 
pumping motion with my left.

"But . . . but . . . I . . . I could . . . do it . . . to you . . . 
Shona-di." He had started to buck his hips in rhythm.  His face was drawn 
and eyes half closed. The fair skin on his cheeks flushed.

"No . . . not now . . . you finish." I heard myself say.  That was the 'big 
sister' in me trying to salvage whatever could be salvaged from this 
unqualified immorality.

"Yessss . . . I . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . I . . . Aaaaahhhhnggggh . . .  aaaah 
. . . aaaah . . . aah . . . ah . . . ah . . ." Sanju heaved and his cock 
started jerking in my fist.  I felt its spasmodic response as my cousin came 
under the towel.  I kept squeezing and pumping him with the momentum of my 
own fiery excitement.  He fell back against the wall -- limp and blissfully 
exhausted -- as I continued my milking, till his cock began to lose the 
steely feel.  I held it through the towel and felt it soften.  I could have 
as easily come with him if I wanted to; but I forced myself to keep my 
thighs apart and away from my distended love-bud.  I guess that same 'big 
sister' didn't want to loose control.

	As I stood up from the bed, Sanju looked up at my face and recognised the 
arousal.  I am sure the condition I was in, it was not hard for even an 
inexperienced adolescent to discern.  He was, by then, almost naked save 
where the damp towel lay barely hiding his privates and the spendings.  I 
could not look at his handsome form, prone on the bed, without entertaining 
further possibilities.  So I looked away and pretended to rearrange my saari 
that had gotten a little disheveled.

"What will you do now?" Asked Sanju.

"You mind your own business and get dressed." The sharpness in my voice 
discordant even to me.  It was the self-imposed carnal frustration, I think.

"Are you angry?" Sanju asked in the most boyish tone.  I had to look at him 
and reward him with a big reassuring smile.

"Don't be silly, Sanju!  What happened was quite natural . . . under the 
circumstances." I spoke with a gentle authority -- as a 'big sister' would 
in other situations.  It was my way of rationalizing the afternoon's 
indiscretion.  Something in my own mind also forecast another encounter . . 
. may be a little more intimate.  "I have to go downstairs before people 
start missing me."

	Indeed, nearly an hour had passed since I had entered his empty room.  I 
opened the door with extra caution as if the sound of the cross-bar would 
alert everybody to our naughtiness . . .

	As I stepped out of the room and looked around, I found my name-sake 
looking up at me from the courtyard down below.

++++++++++++ End Part 13

(To be Continued)
<3rd attachment end>


<4th attachment, "MS14.TXT" begin>

The 'repost' continues, with corrections, and modifications:
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Hello, Readers!  Thank you for your patience (and for your impatience).  
Without enumerating all the reasons for the long delay, let me assure you 
that you may expect such delays for quite some time to come.  (Well, may be 
not a whole month!).  Thanks to the small world of cyberspace, and the 
notoriety of "SS" therein, it seems that I may have to delete some things, 
and rewrite some portions.

Please write at <anu_g42@hotmail.com> with  (sensible, not moral) comments, 
and corrections.



NOTE:  Please visit my 'ftp' site at asstr-mirror.org's  Authors section to read 
the previous parts.

WARNING:  Do not proceed beyond this "warning"  if you are not a mature 
person, and/or are  offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual 
encounters.

******************************************





My Story (Part 14) by Sharmila Sanyal

	Nobody has ever faulted me for not being a quick thinker; but at that 
instant I felt completely blind sided.  The last person I would have 
expected standing downstairs in the middle of the courtyard was 
Sharmila-boudi.  Why? Because they had left that morning -- or so I thought! 
  I had to start thinking about what I would be spinning for her when we 
were face to face.  I smiled, and waved, and, hoping that she wouldn't 
discern the utter quandary on my face, quickly rushed towards the bathroom.  
I had to attend to a more urgent need, and the pondering looks, if any, 
would have had to be dealt with in a cooler head.

	It did not take much, really!  I would not, under a less stringent 
environment, rush through my masturbation.  Then again, would I call that 
masturbation? The quizzical stare from Sharmila-boudi notwithstanding, I was 
well beyond the point of no return by the time I closed the bathroom door 
shut behind me.  I just needed a little privacy to let go of the tension 
that gripped my body.  I spotted a small wooden stool against the wall, and, 
bunching up my sari -- and the petticoat underneath -- I sat down on it.  It 
was damp; but I didn't mind.  Resting my back against the rough, moldy, wall 
behind me, I parted my thighs, and looked down.  I was wearing a very sheer 
pair of panties that had a very narrow crotch.  Around it, my inner thighs 
were slippery with my juice.  All I had  to do was to pull the suggestion of 
the fabric to one side, and insert two of my fingers as far as they would 
go.

	I had to bite down on my lower lip to keep myself from screaming out in 
that ultimate pleasure.  My body convulsed a few times as my cunt gripped my 
fingers in demanding contractions.  I let my senses go for a few minutes as 
I allowed my body to recuperate from that abrupt release.

	Before I joined the world again, I made sure that my clothes, and my face 
would not tell much tale.  As I came out of the bathroom, I spotted Sanju 
leisurely descending the stairs.  I decided to wait a minute longer before 
joining the crowd down below.

	As I entered the drawing room, I felt self-conscious -- especially when 
Sharmila-boudi called out to me from the far corner of the room.  I did not 
see Sanju in the room.  My Mother was sitting by the door, and she said 
something like "Where have you been?"

	Having had time to regain my composure since I had found myself staring 
straight at my name-sake, I answered truthfully, and crossed over to where 
Boudi was sitting.

"I thought you had left." I said to her -- to start the conversation.

"No, we went to my friend's place," she said, "they live quite close, so I 
thought we should drop by."

"Oh." I had no idea what to talk about.

"So, what did you, and Sanju talk about?" She asked.  She was itching to 
know!

"You mean . . . up there?" admittedly still a bit nervous, I had to buy some 
time before venturing further.  The 'little gray cells' were fired up 
thinking about possible explanations.  "Oh. . . nothing in particular," I 
said, trying my best to sound casual.

"He is a handsome boy, isn't he!" Sharmila-boudi looked at me, and threw 
that statement as if to steer the conversation towards a predetermined 
course.  As much as I liked Sharmila- boudi, I did not like what she was 
doing.

"He is, isn't he?" I said in response, trying to convince myself that she 
was simply making a conversation about Sanju.  "The last time I saw him . . 
. he was a kid," I added.

"Yeah?" She carried on, "now he is almost a man!"

"Hmmm . . ."  I sounded my accord in a feigned indifference, and thought to 
myself, 'if she only knew how much!'

	I had the distinct feeling that she was no less attracted to Sanju's charms 
than I was.  I said little after that.  Bawdy thoughts suddenly filled up my 
brain.  I started wondering about Sharmila-boudi's supposed attraction 
towards handsome Sanju.  I was again getting hot between my legs.  I steered 
the conversation to other subjects.



	In the dining room, Sanju found the chair right beside me.  I looked at his 
face, and found an inquiring look.  I stared back at his eyes, and he 
whispered "Tonight?"

	My heart hopped a little in my chest.  In a shocked stupor, I murmured 
back, "Let's see," -- an equivocal expression in Bengali that is even less 
committal than it sounds translated.  I wasn't sure what I was saying, or 
what I was thinking.  I was certainly not expecting that Sanju would 
approach me like that!  Or, was I?

	Wasn't there a part in my consciousness that had known? Should it have been 
unexpected from a boy of fifteen who probably have had fantasies about his 
cousin?  All through the supper, I kept wondering to myself if I weren't 
poised to transform the afternoon's momentary passion into a regular sexual 
relation with him.  To make matters worse, I did not feel any outrage at 
what Sanju implied.  I was already feeling blood rushing to my face, and I 
thanked God that Sharmila-boudi was nowhere to be seen.  By the time we 
finished our supper, it was half-past-nine.

				     +++



"I'm not going to let you put it in, Sanju," I said with some determination 
in my voice.

"Then what?" He sounded disappointed, "I thought . . ."

	He had again come up to me as I was about to enter the room I was sleeping 
in.  I was to be sleeping alone that night, as the guests sharing the room 
with me had left that evening.  My mother had asked me if I would like to 
come down, and use the spare bed in their room.  That being our last night 
there, I didn't feel like moving my stuff to another room. At least, that 
was the excuse I had offered my mother.

My room was on the same floor as Sanju's.  Une autre raison?

"So?" He had asked with a boyish eagerness.

"So, what?" I pretended not to follow.

"You know . . . I was wondering," the tentativeness in his proposition 
amused me.

"Don't be naughty, Sanju!" I tried to sound stern, and succeeded, for he 
definitely looked embarrassed, and, making an about-turn, quickly headed 
back to his own room.

	I stood there at the doorway, and watched him across the veranda as he 
entered his room.  It was close to eleven, and others had either turned in, 
or were about to.  The servants, and the maids were also done with their 
final chores of cleaning up.  I saw the four of them headed towards their 
own quarters that were set slightly apart, and along one wing of the house.

	I lay on the bed, increasingly conscious of the uneasiness between my legs. 
  My sense of morality was forbidding me from even bringing my own hand to 
my seat of pleasure, for my arousal was the direct result of my afternoon's 
'misdeed'.  I knew, too, that I would be fantasizing about my young cousin 
if, and while I pleasured myself; and the "big sister" in me was winning 
out.  I held my thighs close together trying to think about Debi, and about 
Dipankar -- and it made things worse.  My racy mind almost automatically 
included Sanju in a foursome.

	I finally gave up.  If I was to think about Sanju while doing it, I might 
as well join him -- I reasoned to myself.  I waited another half hour before 
opening the door and stepping out into the veranda.

	It was a night before the full moon, but not even a sliver of it could be 
seen through the dense black clouds that warned of an imminent downpour.  I 
bunched up the maxi around my chest, and covered my exposed skin from the 
cold moist air that swept into the covered veranda.  I usually don't wear 
anything under my night dress, and that night was no different.

	As I hurried around the corner, and towards Sanju's room, a bolt of 
lightning streaked across the western sky directly across from the pond -- a 
contemptuous  strobe that threatened to expose me to the world.  I still 
remember that moment as I froze in the middle of the wing,  holding my 
breath for the thunder to sound.  It was a whimper as the wind carried it 
away.  I waited for a few seconds to see if I indeed was exposed to any 
prying eyes.

	As I stood in front of the closed doors, I debated again.  "Should I be  
doing this?" I asked myself;, and I wasn't even sure what I was going to do! 
  All I was aware of was the overpowering sensation between my legs, and of 
the lightness in my head.  I don't know what made me press against the doors 
instead of knocking, but I was relieved to find the panels give slightly.  I 
saw a faint light through the crack.  I wasn't surprised.  It was hard for 
me to go to sleep, and I expected the same of Sanju.  I pushed one of the 
panels of the door open, and stepped inside.

	In spite of all the racy fantasies that I had been indulging in, my heart 
almost stopped as my eyes took in the magnificent form lying on the bed!  
Evidently engrossed in the book he was reading, Sanju had not sensed my 
presence.

	He was lying on his stomach, with the pillow under his chest, and one of 
those books open in front of him.  His chin rested on his hands as he read.  
The small lamp on his table, shaded by a fabric dome, illuminated the pages 
of the book, while casting an enticingly soft glow along the bed.

	Sanju was wearing an undershirt, and a pair of pajamas, but they hid 
little.  The shirt was bunched up above the small of his back, and the 
pajamas were pushed back below his buttocks.  I watched breathlessly, as -- 
following the rocking motion of his supine form -- the muscles of his 
perfectly shaped ass flexed, and relaxed in a very slow rhythm.  Transfixed 
right inside the frame of the doorway, I watched in fascination.  I had seen 
his almost bare body that very afternoon, but seeing him masturbate like 
that set my already warm body on fire.

	I don't know how long it was before he sensed my presence.  Suddenly he 
froze . . ., and so did I.  Without turning his head, he quickly grabbed his 
pajamas, and pulled it up before rolling over, and sitting up in one swift 
movement.  I was brought back to earth by his sudden reaction, and 
discovered one of my own hands inside my maxi.  I had, albeit unconsciously, 
started to caress one of my nipples.

"Shona-di!" As he saw me, his trepidation gave way to discernible delight.  
There was an obvious thrill in his voice.

"Why, did you expect somebody else?" I commented as I approached the bed.  
"How come you left your door unlocked?" As I asked that, I realised that it 
was a genuine concern on my part that he should be discovered thus by 
somebody else.  "What if somebody had walked in?" That "somebody" obviously 
did not include me!

"Oh, nobody would come this late," he was doing the reassuring.  "So . . .?" 
He threw in the not-so-open-ended query at me.  He was sitting at the edge 
of the bed, his buttocks resting on his heels.  I looked at his pajamas, and 
at the wet spot that had already formed where his cock served as the 
tent-pole.  I felt my own juices making my inner thighs slippery as I sat 
down beside him.

"What?" I said as my eyes roamed up to meet his. , and then I added, "Don't 
the doors need to be closed?" I had made the final commitment without 
knowing exactly what we were to be doing.  My burning libido ruling my 
emotions, I stood up, walked back to the door, and closed it shut with the 
crossbar.

"I didn't think . . ."  he said as I turned around.  He was looking at my 
eyes.  I lowered mine.

	Without saying a word, I walked back, and sat down on his bed beside him, 
and planted a light kiss on his lips.  I felt him shudder slightly.

"Have you kissed anybody?" I asked.

"No."

	I leaned forward, and planted another, this time on his cheek.  He put his 
arms around me, and kissed me back the same way.  He shifted forward, and 
changed his position to sit with his feet on the floor, like me.  He closed 
the remaining gap between us as he turned his torso fully towards me, and 
kissed me again . . . this time on my mouth.

	I returned the favor by opening my mouth, and letting my tongue dart out to 
lick his lips.  Even as my toungue caressed him, my hand found his 
'tent-pole'.  I grabbed it in my fist, and felt the heat through the fabric. 
  I could feel its contour . . . the sinewy lengths of the spongy tissues 
filled with his warm blood.  I pulled my head away, and looked down as I 
felt it throb, and, in that soft glow of the table lamp, I saw the wet spot 
on the fabric get larger.  My whole body felt so light I could almost float 
up in air.

	I let it go, and inserted my hand under his pajamas.  It wasn't difficult, 
since its cord was already undone.  My shaky hand encountered his silky 
pubic hair before it found its mark.  It jumped as my fingertips touched the 
bare skin.  I grabbed it again.

	That was my very first experience of holding a bare cock!  The satiny feel 
of the smooth skin, the heat, the throbbing . . . the inside of my own cunt 
throbbed in concert, and squeezed out my juices.

	Sanju held me even more tightly as I gently squeezed his cock in my fist.  
It felt nice.  The fervid urgency in my body had, by then, turned into a 
warm anticipation.  I was settling down into the motion of things.  I knew 
by then that the principal force driving me was the naughtiness of it all.

"I have to . . ."  Sanju whispered into my ears as I started to increase the 
tempo of my hand on his rock-hard member.

"Have to what?" I cocked my head to one side, and asked.

"I'll have to go to the bathroom," he explained, "otherwise I can't hold 
off!"

"OK . . . go." I said, and, letting go of it, sat back as Sanju broke his 
embrace.  "Let me turn the light off." I said.  I didn't want the light from 
the lamp to give anything away.  Sanju stood up, clutching his pajama with 
one hand to keep it from slipping, and exposing his excitement.  I leaned 
over towards the desk, and turned the light off before he opened the door, 
and tip-toed out of the room.

	I stood up, and looked out the window.  The sky had cleared a little, and I 
could see some stars.  I unbuttoned the maxi part way, and exposed one of my 
breasts to the humid air.  I caressed the nipple, and it responded by 
getting harder.  I thought of Sanju, and wondered if I should let him touch 
my breasts!  That's when I got cold feet again.  A flash of morality shot 
through my head, and I turned around to leave.  I was about to open the door 
when Sanju entered.

++++++++ End Part 14   (To be Contd.)
<4th attachment end>


<5th attachment, "MS15.TXT" begin>

The repost continues:
++++++++++++++++


Please write at <anu_g42@hotmail.com> with  (sensible, not moral) comments 
and corrections.
Note: Please include the subject heading "My Story" or some such identifier 
if you do write!


WARNING:  Do not proceed beyond this "warning"  if you are not a mature 
person and/or are  offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual 
encounters.

++++++++++++++++++++




My Story (Part 15) by Sharmila Sanyal

"Shona-di?" there was the obvious confounded question in his voice as he 
stood at the doorway looking at my face.  He was trying to assess the mood 
there, I suppose.

"Sanju . . ." I held his hand in mine and said, ". . . shouldn't be doing 
this." I felt a spasm low down, below my stomach even as I said that.

"No?" he said, "but . . .but . . ."

"Sanju, I am your big sister . . ." holding his hand was probably a mistake. 
  His warm and soft boyish hand was transfusing his excitement into my body 
and, in a panic, I became aware of my waning moral resolve.

"I . . . I know that . . . but we did it . . . this afternoon . . ." 
pleadingly he reminded me, "What changed suddenly?"  My eyes having had time 
to adjust to the darkness of the room, I could almost see the befuddled 
disappointment in his face.

"Nothing, really."

"Please, nobody will know, please!" Sanju pulled his hands and drew me 
closer, and I felt his erection against one of my thighs.  It had lost the 
rigidity somewhat -- the result of his trip to the bathroom, I surmised -- 
but was rigid enough to be holding the fabric of his pajamas up.

	Whom was I kidding? I was as horny as I have ever been and I needed to do 
it as much as my cousin.  Past and Present conspired in concert to shove 
Future into the path of an oncoming tempest.

	 Standing at the doorway, I let go of his hands and hugged him close.  As I 
felt the heat from his rejuvenated manhood permeate me, my big-sisterly 
purpose and moral pang were blown away like dried leaves in that powerful 
hurricane.

	We closed and secured the door and stepped back to the bed. We lay down on 
the bed on our sides, his head resting on my right forearm.  The silence of 
the moist night, punctuated by the sound of wind gusting against the shaded 
verandah outside, added to the absurdity, and to the inevitability, of the 
imminent act.

	Motionless, we lay there for several minutes: I, through a mental rehearsal 
and Sanju, I suppose, anxiously avoiding making any wrong move.

	As I heard his breathing get labored, I touched his erection from above the 
pajamas and said -- finally -- under my breath, "Take it out." The darkness 
inside the room served  to enhance the sense of illicit adventure.

	He loosened the cord and I pushed the pajamas down.  I felt the rock-hard 
cock spring up and into my waiting hand.

"This way?" I asked, as I moved my fist back and forth along his warm cock.

"Nnnnng . . .yesss . . ." he responded by placing his face under my chin and 
nuzzling up.  My nipples ached to be touched.  The cave down below filled up 
unchecked.

	I let go of him momentarily and guided his hand to one of my breasts.  He 
cupped it in his palm, the coarse fabric of my maxi separating his skin from 
mine, and began massaging deftly as I resumed pleasuring him.  I gripped the 
hard rod with a little more vigor as my adolescent mate rubbed my erect 
nipples under his palm.  His proficiency in handling my breasts, albeit from 
above my clothing, amazed me.  But, I was in no state to dwell on my 
amazement.

	After a while, and without warning, Sanju let go of my breasts and, holding 
me in both arms, rolled me on my back, climbing on top of me at the same 
time.

	It took me by surprise and I had to let go of him as he slid down to start 
feasting on my breasts.  This time his freshness was apparent, as he 
clumsily tried to suck on my breasts through the fabric of my night-dress.  
Then again, my own condition hardly allowed me to think about anything other 
than what he was doing to me.  All his fumbling did little to abate my 
arousal.  I helped myself by pulling open the front of my already unbuttoned 
maxi and exposing them at once.  Then, holding his head between my hands, I 
guided him to where his mouth was needed.  He pulled his head up slightly, 
and - supporting his torso on his elbows - gathered up my breasts in both 
hands.  His mouth descended on one of my nipples while he began gently 
tweaking the other between his fingers.  He was a quick study!

"Aaaaahhhhhhhh . . ." I cried out in delight as he rolled the erect nipple 
between his lips and ever so lightly bit down with his teeth.  I bucked my 
hips up and felt his erection nudge up between my thighs.  I spread them 
apart, allowing Sanju to place his cock on my lower belly.  He came down 
firmly with his cock and started to move back and forth.  I felt its rigid 
length along the slippery folds of my labia, its head hitting my mound in a 
hasty rhythm while he continued to titillate my hard nipples.  My stomach 
muscles tightened and my mid section started responding . . . in a very slow 
rhythm.

"Oh . . .Shona-di . . . now . . . now?" he looked up and asked.

I froze.

"I'm not going to let you put it in, Sanju" with full comprehension of his 
unformed query, I found myself saying with some determination in my voice.  
In light of that ebbing resolve of a few moments ago, the tone in my own 
voice surprised even me.

"Then?" he sounded disappointed, "I thought . . ." Sanju stopped his 
thrusts.

"No way, Sanju . . ." despite the denial, I  myself was no less bewildered.  
The intense excitement notwithstanding, I was once again -- and suddenly -- 
aware of my deep-rooted sense of morality.  I had, in my subconscious, 
carefully laid down the limit!

"But . . ." Sanju pulled his torso up some more and said, "I have some 
condoms." It sounded so vulgar, coming from him, and yet so very salacious . 
. .

"You . . . you naughty boy!" I bit my lip, trying to keep my brain from 
exploding, "Thought of everything . . . haven't you!" I said in a whisper as 
I took my hand between our bodies and held his cock again, "Where did you 
get them?" I couldn't picture him going up to the guy in the store and 
asking for rubbers.  Everybody in town knew him and his family.

"I had a friend of mine buy them and bring them over this evening."

"I see," I pulled at his cock and said, "and you told him what?"

"Nothing . . . really . . ." he said unconvincingly, "I didn't mention you, 
of course." That was a big relief!  I don't remember even wondering about 
the explanation that he might have had to extend to his "friend".  Come to 
think of it, I never really bothered to ask later!

"Never mind the condom," I said with a sort of nervous giggle, "you are not 
going to put it in . . . I am a virgin and I want to stay that way for my 
hubby."  Well, may be not clinically, but I was a virgin nonetheless.  I 
was, at that moment, thinking of Dipankar.  I suppose I had subconsciously 
decided that Dipu would be the first to enter me.

"OK," he said.  "Then . . . what do you want to do?" he asked after a slight 
pause and rolled off me, his cock, hard and throbbing, still in my hand.

	Good question!  I became aware that I really hadn't thought about it.  I 
knew I needed to have sex of some sort; and that I was there because I was 
horny about my adolescent cousin; and that I wanted to do "something" with 
him . . . but I had not thought about the basics!  At the same time, I was 
feeling the ever increasing heat between my legs as much as he was.  I 
needed to make a trip to the bathroom.

"I have to go . . ." I mumbled as I sat up.

"OK . . ." Sanju rolled over to his side, facing the wall and said, "go . . 
. "

A very dispirited tone!

"I'll be right back." No sooner did I say those words, that the tone in his 
voice alerted me to his misapprehension.  "Hey . . ." I leaned over to him 
and, grabbing his arm, rolled him flat on his back, "I am not going away . . 
. bathroom . . . I am going to the bathroom!" I couldn't help notice the 
once proud and hard manhood lying on its side across his thigh . . . 
somewhat deflated.

"Go wherever you want to go," Sanju said under his breath in a childish 
manner, reminding me -- however fleetingly -- of his adolescence.  He put an 
arm across his eyes, trying to hide his face from showing the emotion that 
his voice betrayed.  I could almost see him pout.

"So, you want me to leave?" I just couldn't let him be.  The urge to tease 
my handsome cousin was overpowering.

"I didn't say that," he mumbled, his face still hidden behind his arm.

"I said I need to go to the bathroom," I sat down again beside his 
half-naked form and touched his fallen member.  It responded almost 
immediately, and marveled me by regaining its full glory.  It stood up -- as 
if in a slow motion -- as rigidly as before while I held it in two fingers 
ever so gently.  My cunt throbbed violently.  As I gulped and took in the 
sight, the pressure on my bladder seemed too much for me to bear.  I exited 
the room as quietly as I could.

	I went and I washed without making too much splash.  I was dying to touch 
myself down there and get some relief, but I managed not to.  I felt much 
more in control with a freshly emptied bladder.  As I stepped out into the 
verandah, another bolt of lightning tore through the darkness of the night 
and startled me.  Once I regained my bearing, I looked up and smiled.  "You 
can't put out a fire with another fire," I murmured mischievously.

	Sanju was still lying flat on his back, as I had left him.  He had pulled 
his pajamas up to cover his nakedness.  Strange, this inherent human 
modesty!

"Why the shyness?" I turned the table lamp on and asked as I sat down beside 
him.

"No, not that," he said softly, "I felt funny lying naked like that." I 
found the old eagerly horny Sanju in that voice.

"I see," I said, unmindfully, as if to validate his modesty; and it also 
served to bridle my raging passion, helping me focus properly.  I needed to 
take control of my mind.

"You want the lighht on?" Sanju asked.

"I want to see this one," I whispered as I reached and lay a hand on his 
loin; the tips of my fingers touched the unmistakable warm flesh that 
quivered under the sheet.  I stroked it from above and it responded . . . 
languorous yet determined.

"Nnnnnggghhhh . . ." Sanju moaned as my hand moved along the length and woke 
it up to its full glory.  He placed one hand on mine that covered his heat, 
and gave a gentle squeeze . . . as if to acknowledge the sensation he 
received from my touch.

	I pulled the pajamas down and exposed it.  It looked as if the purple head 
was trying to force itself out from under the modest cover of the foreskin.  
As I stared, Sanju's manhood twitched with a life of its own, as if it was 
able to 'feel' my stare.  I shifted my gaze to his face and found him 
staring at me . . . well, at my breasts, to be precise.  I smiled and 
reached again for his cock.  This time there was nothing between it and my 
hand.  I held it right below the head between my thumb and fingers.  The 
satin-smooth skin was hot.  I gently pulled the skin down -- almost 
ceremoniously -- and uncovered the head.  A little droplet of clear fluid 
oozed out through the slit.  My cave throbbed.

	I made a fist around his cock and started moving it up and down.  I bent it 
down over his stomach and -- in my other hand -- cupped his balls.  He let 
out another moan and more of his clear fluid dribbled out and on his 
stomach.

	I ached to have something up inside me.  I wanted to feel that thing down 
there, where the tunnel throbbed, and flowed unchecked.  I pleasured him as 
I worked with both hands . . . with gentle strokes till he couldn't keep 
himself from making almost imperceptible thrusts with his pelvis.

"Wait a second," I whispered and let go of his cock and his balls.  I saw it 
jump and stand straight up.  It looked magnificent, and almost made me 
reverse my decision.  But, again, the Bengali morality and the "Big Sister" 
in me reaffirmed itself just in time . . . just enough . . . even as I lay 
down beside him.

"Ssshhhhhhh . . ." Sanju opened his eyes and hissed through his clenched 
teeth.

	As I saw him grab his erection in his own hand, I folded up my knees and 
drew the hem of the maxi up and to my waist.  I raised my hips slightly and 
pulled the garment up further.  Now naked below my waist, I reached down and 
touched myself . . . the clitoris was swollen and almost stiff from the 
excitement.  I let my fingers brush over it and lost control momentarily, 
crying out loudly in pleasure.  As I regained my senses I hoped that my 
voice didn't carry beyond the room.

"You OK, Shona-di?" Sanju sat up straight and asked with genuine concern in 
his voice.  Then he looked at my semi-nude form lying invitingly before him. 
  I actually felt sorry for denying him what would have been his first 
coital experience.

	The conflict, that was pulling my mind in two directions, is hard to 
recapitulate.  I am able to impart a host of rational explanations looking 
back; but no such logic, nor any rationale, governed my actions back then.  
I behaved as if I had been through similar conditions before -- a 
preprogrammed and instinctive response.

"Nothing . . ." I said under my breath.  I looked at him and again my body 
wanted him inside.  I took in his bare silhouette in the mischievously soft 
darkness of the room and the gushing cave between my open legs pulsated, 
sending a shiver up my belly and to my taut nipples.

"Come . . ." I invited him.

"You sure, Shona-di . . .?" he sat up on his knees and I marveled again at 
the dark cock sticking out straight between his thighs.  Under his cock's 
shadow, I could make out the outline of his balls that nestled tightly at 
the base.  "I thought you didn't want to," he said (with a triumphant note, 
I thought) even as he moved on his knees between my thighs.

"Don't talk . . ." I stretched one of my arms between my legs and took hold 
of his cock.  The slippery exudate from its head wet my fingers.  As he 
leaned forward and placed his hands on either side of my chest, I kept my 
hold on his magnificence, keeping its crown towards my mound.  He slowly 
lowered his loin and hovered there in anticipation as the head of his cock 
touched the base of my pubic triangle . . .

"Yes . . ." he looked down between our legs and uttered eagerly.

++++++++++ (End Part 15)
<5th attachment end>


<6th attachment, "MS16.TXT" begin>

The repost continues:
+++++++++++++++++++++++


The tragic aftermath of the quake in India had left me numb for a while.  I 
thank all that directly or indirectly did something to help the victims.

Additional delay may safely be blamed upon noncooperation by the cyber 
entities.  The ftp upload has been incomplete for this part.

I have ventured into using a few Bengali words and phrases in this part.  
The reason for doing so is that certain expressions defy translation.  I 
have consciously tried to keep these Bengali expressions in such contexts as 
would obviate further explanations.

I am grateful for the encouragement I receive from the readers.

Please visit my ftp site at ASSTR.  Please write at <anu_g42@hotmail.com> 
with comments and corrections.

WARNING:  Do not proceed beyond this "warning"  if you are not a mature 
person and/or are  offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual 
encounters.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++




My Story (Part 16) by Sharmila Sanyal.

	I looked at his naked body stretched out over me, the muscles on his 
shapely arms flexed under the weight of his torso.  Even in that dimmed 
light that the table lamp shone over the bed, I could see his adolescent 
chest muscles quiver.  I reached out with my other hand and touched one of 
his nipples lightly with my fingers, and I felt his cock throb in my fist.

"Do it there . . ." I said, moving my free hand and placing  it on his 
buttocks.  I pulled him down towards me.  As he lowered himself, his warm 
hard erection sandwiched between his lower belly and my mons, I felt his 
balls brush against my clitoris.

"I . . . I . . . I . . . thought . . . nnnnggghh . . ." the disappointment 
in his voice soon changed to a moan of pleasure as I felt his adolescent 
silken hardness pulsate against my silky mound, "This feels . . . aaaaahhhh 
. . . nnnnnggg . . ." and he kissed me on my lips.  No longer having to hold 
his manhood, I put my arms around his back and held him tight, trying to 
feel his nakedness along my own.

"May be . . . when you . . .. grow up more . . ." I whispered a suggestion 
of my lurid fantasy into his mouth as my taut nipples dug into his smooth 
chest.

"But . . . aaaaahhhh . . . aaaaahhhh . . ." he whispered back his 
uncertainty, even as he rocked back and forth, "you will get married . . . 
and . . . nnnnnggg . . . then . . . then . . . Oh . . . Oh . . ."

"Don't worry now," I was breathing rather heavily with his entire weight 
grinding down on me, "Sanju . . . Sanju . . . do it . . . nicely . . . 
yessss . . . yesss . . ."

"Dhokate . . . debe? . . . Shona-di? . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . mmmm?"  as he 
rocked and ground his cock between our bodies, he repeated his wish, "will 
you . . . please?"

"I know . . . Sanju . . . I would let you . . . but . . . aaaaahhhh . . ." I 
groaned, my clit being caressed by his soft balls as I rocked with him, "not 
tonight . . . do it . . . yessss . . . when you are a little older . . . may 
be . . . we will see . . ." I kept on saying -- indulging his (and perhaps 
my own) wish.  I was close to my climax and I wanted him to have his too, 
"Do you like it . . . Sanju?"

"Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . Shona-di . . ." Sanju muttered against my ears 
as he continued to push against the silken triangle of my mound, "I can't . 
. . nnnnnnggggh . . ." and I felt his cock throb.  I knew that all I had to 
do then is to touch my clit . . . and I would be there.  Most of me wanted 
to prolong the sex, and a voice at the back of my head was trying to hurry 
up and finish before somebody discovered us like that.

"Don't rush, Sanju . . . dushtu . . ." the lewd Shona-di won and said, 
"enjoy . . . enjoy . . . enjoy . . . yessss!"

"I will have to stop then . . ." Sanju lifted his head up to look into my 
eyes, "naahole . . . aamaar hoye jaabe," with that, he rolled away from me.  
The rhythmic slapping of his balls against my swollen love-button suddenly 
interrupted, my cunt almost screamed out in frustration. While I appreciated 
his apprehension of a climax too soon, my throbbing sex wanted no 
interruption.

"Oh . . . Sanju . . ." I reached out for his cock as he lay panting on his 
back beside me.

"Don't . . . Shona-di . . . no!" I detected panic in his  whispered protest 
as he sat up straight and caught hold of my hand at the wrist.

"I just want to hold it . . ." I said rather childishly, quite aware of the 
possible outcome that might spawn.  The 'big sister' had, by then, been 
transformed into a seductress -- apt to tease and beguile.

"No!" he protested, "I will have to go and pee again." With one swift 
motion, he jumped over me and out of the bed and headed towards the door.

"Hey . . ." I cried out in alarm, "don't you think you need this?" I grabbed 
his pajamas and sat up on the bed.  In the grip of his dual urgency, he was 
oblivious of his state of complete undress.  He swung around and giggled, 
taking the pair from my outstretched hand.

	As he went out through the door, carefully closing the panel behind him, I 
smiled to myself and mused at the futility of that cover -- should he chance 
upon another sentient occupant of the sprawling house -- for it hid little!  
The enormous erection was not to be concealed that easily.

	I lay back on the bed again and waited.  I gently caressed my nipples as I 
waited.  The distended nub at the head of my dripping cunt begged for my 
fingers -- but I refrained and waited.  I waited for what seemed like an 
eternity . . . and I waited . . .

	I sat up on the bed again and realized that I needed to go too.  Prolonged 
state of arousal has always caused my bladder to overload.  I looked at the 
phosphorescent hands of the clock on the table.  It was past one.  I was 
somewhat relieved that it was so late.  As I swung around on my buttocks to 
stand up,  I felt the soaked spot on the linen where my love-canal had been 
gushing out my juices.  I looked down and touched my pubic hair.  The curls 
were wet and slippery . . . Sanju's pre-cum, I surmised!

	I rubbed my fingers on it and brought the hand up to my nose.  A strongly 
pungent aroma filled my nostrils -- it was definitely not me.  I am not sure 
if I would have liked the smell if I were not at that heady height.  
Although a lot different, it reminded me of Debi's.  I wet my fingers some 
more from the hairs and took them to my mouth.  Tentatively I drew the tip 
of my tongue along one finger . . . and then another . . . and then another 
. . . before I knew it, I had all four inside my mouth, sucking up his 
pre-cum.  I imagined myself sucking his boyish cock.

	My head reeled and my body quivered at the anticipation.  My legs felt so 
weak from excitement that I sat back down on the bed and struggled to bring 
my mind back into focus.  It was hard, but eventually I managed to stand up 
again and I walked up to the door.  As I stepped outside onto the verandah, 
the monotonous mating calls of the amphibians was almost deafening, 
emphasizing the slumber that gripped the palatial house.  The momentary 
realization, that my fifteen-year-old cousin and I were, in all probability, 
the only two souls awake -- and engaged in sex -- did little towards 
quashing my desires.  I leaned on the railings and waited for Sanju to 
return.

"Did you wash it with water?" I asked him as he returned from the bathroom 
and stood by me on the veranda.

"Why?" he asked.  His cock was not hard under the pajamas, but I could make 
out its swollen form as it hung inside.

"Just making sure . . . in case . . . you know . . ." I let it hang in the 
air and added, "it takes you so long . . . O my!" with that I hurriedly made 
my way to the bathroom.  I am not sure if Sanju had any idea what I was 
alluding to, but I enjoyed the look of perplexed anticipation on his face.  
I washed mine too before I returned to the room.  I had to be extremely 
careful not to touch anything down there while washing, but I managed and I 
don't want to describe every little detail.

	I found a completely naked Sanju standing by the window looking out.  "Why 
did you take so long?" I asked as I set the cross-bar across the door panels 
lightly without making the slightest sound and undressed myself.  In one 
swift motion I slipped out my night dress and stood beside him naked.  The 
soft and subdued light from the table lamp added to our primitive form.  As 
he looked at me in all my femininity, I saw his manhood swell up further and 
rise in front of him.  In a few seconds it was fully erect.

"It is hard . . . I mean difficult," he explained, "when it's so hard." I 
didn't ask anymore.  It made sense.

"How do you do it?" I stood in front of him and asked him.

"Do what?" he was genuinely unsure of my query.

"How do you jack off . . . when you are alone?" I made it perfectly clear.  
Was I ever horny!

"Wow, Shona-di!  Where did you learn the word?" Sanju's suppressed tone of 
disbelief at my familiarity with the Bengali slang for (male) masturbation 
would have sounded funny any other time.  But I was in a world so devilishly 
delightful that it manipulated the mind into responding at a very different 
plane.

"Why? Why shouldn't I know them?" I asked.

"I didn't think girls knew these things" Sanju said and started jerking off 
standing beside the window, his back to the lamp.  He was holding his cock 
in his right hand and awkwardly massaging it back and forth.  I could tell 
by the way he moved his hand, that he was not used to doing it that way.  I 
went around and stood behind him.  I put my arms around his middle and 
cupped his balls in my hands.  I don't know why, but the way he was holding 
them with his other hand told me that he should like it if I did that.  And 
I was right!

"Aaaaaaahhhhhhhh . . ." he groaned out rather loudly and bucked his hips a 
few times.  I held him tightly from behind, my breasts flattening against 
his shapely back.  Then he took one of my hands and placed it on his cock.  
"Feels better in your hand, Shona-di," he turned his head towards me and 
said.  I held it in my palm and looked at it -- over his shoulder -- resting 
there.  It looked and felt hot, the velvet skin drawn back and the head 
exposed.  I couldn't see his pre-cum but knew he was flowing.  I lifted it 
up a little and the slippery fluid trickled down the underside of his cock 
and onto my palm.  The lack of light notwithstanding, the thing looked 
magnificent.  Barely resting on my palm, it stood straight out, even 
slightly pointing up, from his thatch of silky pubic hairs.  As I lightly 
rubbed my palm against it, it moved -- as if with a life of its own.  I 
wanted to take that imposing bundle of spongy tissue inside of me.  My legs 
felt weak and my belly twitched against his firm buttocks.

"I want to suck your dick . . ." I whispered against his ears, my "moral" 
alternative instinctively offering me the recourse.  I drew my palm again 
along the underside of its entire length, and felt it jump.

"Oh!  . . . Shona-di . . . nnnnnggg . . ." he didn't seem to comprehend what 
I was proposing.  Without letting him go, I went around and faced him, his 
throbbing manhood still resting lightly on my hand.  "You are so beautiful, 
Shona- di," he murmured, and placed both his hands on my breasts.  The 
nipples were aching for the touch; it felt good.  I held his hardness at its 
base in one hand, and started running my other very gently under it.  We 
were separated merely by the length of his shaft.  I wanted to enjoy what he 
was doing to my nipples before I drew him to the bed and started sucking on 
it.  I didn't want him to come yet, although all that I myself needed was 
his hand between my legs.

	I had it all figured out.  I would ask him to finger-fuck me while I took 
him in my mouth.  So, to avoid putting any pressure on his steel-hard dick, 
I held it at the base and drew my other hand along its underside . . . 
gently . . . very gently caressing the impressively delicate adolescence.

"May I touch you there?" Sanju asked, but did not wait for my permission.  
While massaging one of my breasts, he took the other hand to my cunt; and I 
was hardly in a state to object.

"You are so wet!  Is it over for you?" he asked naively.  I knew why he 
asked that.  The common Bengali word for the female orgasm is rather 
deceptive, leading the untaught to believe that every woman exudes profusely 
only while climaxing.

"Not yet . . . aaaaahhhhh . . ." was all I could say; and I couldn't help 
caressing his cock with a little more love -- for I was almost ready to 
come.  That was something I probably should have avoided doing!

"Aaaaaaaaaaahnnnnnngggggg . . . nnnng . . . ngggg . . . nnnnnnnn . . ." his 
cock exploded!  Barely touching my hand, it convulsed . . . and jumped . . . 
and twitched . . . and exploded!  His thick, white semen erupted from his 
balls, spurting out through the slit.

	His hand had stopped at the entrance to my cave as soon as he started 
coming.  Strangely enough, I didn't mind that I was burning down there.  All 
I wanted to do at that very instant was to make him come nicely.

My stomach awash in the warm sticky fluid, I gripped his throbbing, spewing 
penis and started pumping it back and forth along its length.  The 
glistening head pointing up in my fist, it continued to spurt - the globs 
now landing on my breasts.  I didn't care.  I was ready to take that thing 
in my mouth and, now that he came, I would suck on him while frigging 
myself.

"Bhaalo laagchhe, Sanju . . . aamaar paaji Sanju?" I kept asking of him as I 
continued to massage him, my utter lewdness the direct manifestation of the 
uncontrolled fire burning between my legs.  "Do . . . do . . . do it . . . 
my bad Sanju . . . my naughty, naughty Sanju . . . come . . . come . . ." 
and I dragged him to the bed by his penis.  It was still twitching and 
throbbing in my fist.

	He followed my direction, and lay down flat on his back.  He tried to reach 
for my breasts but they were out of his reach as I straddled his legs and 
brought my mouth down on his dick.  The round head was layered with his 
semen, and as I took it inside my mouth I tasted the pungent and salty fluid 
-- by then somewhat familiar.  The raw smell of the adolescent cum drove me 
wild -- sitting down on one of his legs, my wide open cunt bearing down on 
his shin,  I lightly bit the slippery head.

"Ouch . . . aaaaannnnnngggg . . . my God!" Sanju almost screamed.  I ignored 
his groaning and moaning, which he later confessed to be the product of a 
mixture of intense pleasure and pain, for I was nibbling on his cock while  
bucking my hips and grinding my pussy hard on his shin.  I sucked, and I 
ground, and I bit -- till my whole being erupted in one volcanic climax.  I 
shuddered, and I shrieked and -- as he had charged me later --  very nearly 
made Sanju a eunuch.

	I slumped down on him, my head resting on his lower belly, with his limp 
but still swollen cock resting on my cheek.  I enjoyed the heady scent, and 
felt the taste of it in my mouth.  It wasn't what I had imagined -- a 
revolting odor of sweat and urine -- but I couldn't decide if I could do it 
in sober mind.  Whatever little there was -- oozing out from his exhausted 
manhood -- mixed with my own saliva, left an astringent taste in my mouth.  
Strangely, I thought, the aroma was quite stimulating . . .

***

	 "Hey, Shona-di . . . get up . . ." I heard a distant call, and the next 
moment I felt a hand shaking my head.  I opened my eyes in the semi-darkness 
of the room, still crouched on Sanju and straddling one of his legs.

I had fallen asleep like that.

I quickly sat up and looked out through the window.  It was still dark but 
the table-clock announced almost 4 AM.  Sanju had fallen asleep too, and 
would have probably slept like that till daybreak, had it not been for the 
discomfort he felt in his leg.  It had gone to sleep too.  Amazingly,  
apparently that was the only appendage that was sleeping in his body.  His 
penis was again up in its full glory.

"Sanju . . . you horny imp . . . you!" I said in my sleepy voice, and got 
off him. I got off the bed, grabbed my maxi, and put it on as I prepared to 
leave.

"Shona-di . . . don't you want to do it one more time?" Sanju  daringly held 
his hard cock in between his palms and proposed.  After what we had engaged 
in only a few hours before, I could hardly blame him for his brass.  But, 
with my body satiated for the moment, my own prudence prevailed -- at least 
for the moment.

"You can take care of that yourself, can't you?" I said in a flat tone.

"But . . . but . . ."

"No 'buts';  Sanju, I'll have to get back to my room now," I said.

"We can do it quickly, Shona-di . . ." he pleaded.

"No, Sanju!  Look at the time, it's almost four and the maids will start 
waking up," I said with some finality, while, at the same time, keeping the 
possibility of a future encounter open.  His fully uncovered form and the 
unmistakable sign of his virility, mixed with the lingering redolence in the 
moist air inside the room, had already started to stir my own salacity.

My heart  thumped in my chest with the inevitable emotions engendered by the 
recollection of the immediate past, and the intense panic of the moment.

	No matter what my senses demanded of me, my little gray cells knew I 
couldn't afford another look . . .

	I didn't look back as I very carefully opened the door and stepped out into 
the cold and humid morning.

	I could hear water running down the gutter pipes -- it had rained while I 
slept.  I quickly reached my room and went to bed.

++++++++++ (End Part  16)
<6th attachment end>


<7th attachment, "MS17.TXT" begin>

The repost continues:
+++++++++++++++++++

Thank you for all your prayers, and thoughts for the victims of the 
earthquake.  Let us also pray for all those around the world that suffered 
under the recent spate of quakes.

I am grateful for the encouragement I receive from the readers.

Please visit my ftp site at ASSTR.  Please write at <anu_g42@hotmail.com> 
with comments, and corrections.  Note: Please include readily identifiable 
Subject line.

WARNING:  Do not proceed beyond this "warning"  if you are not a mature 
person, and/or are  offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual 
encounters.
++++++++++++++++++++






My Story (Part 17) by Sharmila Sanyal



"Can't you stay a few more days?" he whispered as I stood at the steps to 
the doorway while the servants loaded out small suitcases into the car.  My 
parents were inside the house, talking to my aunt, and uncle.  His proximity 
had my juices flowing again as I remembered the impetuous night.

"Why?" I looked at his eyes, and threw back a plethoric question.

"You know very well, Shona-di!" he murmured under his breath as he doodled 
on the dirt with his foot.

"Yeah . . . you want to do more naughty things, right?" I said -- very aware 
of the naughty tone in my own voice.

"Well . . ." he looked straight at my eyes with an impish grin, and answered 
with a question, "don't you?"

"Sanju!" I hissed, "We'll be in big trouble if somebody finds out!"  I 
furtively swiped my glance around us.  I sincerely hoped --, and prayed -- 
that the servants at the foot of the stairs were truly out of the earshot.

"Why? How should anybody find out?" Oh, the boldness of adolescent 
testosterone!

"People will . . . if you don't watch out," I couldn't find a very 
convincing reason myself that would keep me from seeking a repeat of the 
pleasure.  I struggled with myself to keep my mind from remembering the 
intense arousal that I had experienced.  It was hard for my libidinous mind 
to close the door completely on any future rendezvous with my 
fifteen-year-old cousin.

"I'm not going to tell anyone, Shona-di!" he pleaded with his assurance.

"OK . . ." I could not have been more transparent, I realised, "I cannot 
stay anymore now, maybe when you come, and visit us in Calcutta." I am sure 
Sanju's manhood received the vague promise without any "maybe", for I could 
swear I saw a bulge forming in that general vicinity.  The open prospect of 
a future tryst was also affecting me, I should confess.

"There you are," Sharmila-boudi appeared at the doorway behind us, and 
startled me.  "I was looking for you to say 'bye'!", and then she looked at 
Sanju.  I thought I saw something there which I could not quite put my 
finger on.

"Oh . . . Boudi, I was chatting with Sanju," I said.  I was feeling rather 
uneasy having Sanju around in her presence.  I was afraid that I was going 
to give us away by just being too much on our guard.  At times I felt she 
exuded a subtle earthy aura that was hard to miss.  It made me wonder if, 
and how much of my own carnal disposition she could see.  Women, I dare say, 
are notorious for such insights.

	During the past two weeks, we had gotten to know each other better.  I 
found her extremely lovable, and simple, and -- as the expression goes -- 
with a very 'country like' charm about her.  I also had a feeling that, in a 
very girlish sort of way,  she herself was unaware of her very palpable 
lusciousness.

"We should meet more often, Sharmi," she said with a smile.  She wore that 
very sexy look now.  I found Sanju looking at her adoringly, and I was 
abashed to discover myself begrudging that.

"Sure," I agreed.  Till that very moment, I never realised how ridiculous it 
was for us not to have been better acquainted since her marriage.  Although 
a first cousin, I have never felt particularly close with Parimal-da, and as 
a consequence Sharmila-boudi, and I never connected, despite the fact that 
they actually lived a couple of streets over.  "I will come over sometime," 
I added.

"Yeah, I will too," she said, and then added in an undertone, "I think I may 
need your advice on something!" Her beautiful smile -- accentuated by the 
two canines slightly raised from the rest of her otherwise perfect set of 
teeth -- stunned me in that monsoon morning's subdued light.  Beauty is not 
always in perfection!

"My advice? What for?" I was a little amused at that.

"Oh . . . aren't you going to be a doctor?" she said with a giggle.

"Yeah . . . but I am only in my second year now!" I was a little 
embarrassed, "I know virtually nothing of medicine, Boudi!"

"Never mind that . . . talk to you later.  We are going to be taking the 
next train out," she continued to giggle, and disappeared inside.

"So?" I looked at Sanju, and said, not meaning to say anything.

"I'll miss you, Shona-di," he said, and walked over to the car -- as if to 
inspect something.

"You can visit us during the Puja holidays, can't you?"

"May I?" he spun around, and looked at me . . . a look that few would 
construe as conveying boyish excitement!

I had created a monster!

***


"You must be crazy . . .!" Debi was shocked, and incredulous when I told 
her.  "He is a mere little boy!" She had opined.

"Not anymore, Debi, not anymore," I said as I lay exhausted from a torrid 
session of sex with her.

	As I was describing what the two weeks at my aunt's had led up to, she was 
grinding herself against one of my thighs.  Under her, my sodden womanhood 
was getting its fair share from the movement of her undulating body.  She 
had her head buried against the side of my neck as I was whispering the 
lurid details into her ear.

	I had debated with myself for several weeks whether to bring Debi into 
confidence.  I had never kept anything from her, but this felt so very 
scandalous that I just couldn't be certain how she would be reacting.  What 
had also bothered me was the fact that, since returning from that eventful 
trip to my aunt's, I could not keep myself from reminiscing -- with much 
fondness too!

	That night, I had gone over to spend the night with her.  After the last 
class of the day, I had headed for the Coffee House.

	Debi, and Ajit were sitting in our favorite corner.  It was one of the 
tables beside the windows against the south wall.  The guys at the cafe knew 
us and our routine.  As I drew up a chair at the table, Debi held up a hand 
to signal a waiter.

"What are you guys up to?" I said.

"Ajit has to leave shortly," Debi said, "he has to spend some time at 
Jadavpur looking for some papers."

"Yeah, I wish our library had the journals," Ajit didn't seem too thrilled 
at the prospect of leaving us.

"You know what? You could come, and spend the night at our place!" Debi said 
excitedly.

"But . . ."

"Looks like you two are going to have some fun tonight," Ajit said with a 
wink.

"What would you like Sharmi-didi?" I looked up, and was surprised to find 
Ramu-da standing beside my chair.

"Ramu-da!  When did you come back here?" I asked the gentle old guy with a 
big smile.  Ramu-da had gone to work at the Coffee House down South near the 
Jadavpur University.  He always had a smile under that big pair of whiskers 
that made everybody feel at home.

"I am going to be here for another week,"  he said in his endearing raspy 
voice, and the unmistakable Bihari accent, "They were short-handed.  So, 
what? I am busy . . . can't chat."

"Just a coffee," I said.

	Most that frequented the enormous cafe, did just that, ordered a cup of 
coffee or "infusion" (espresso), and spent hours talking.  Some didn't even 
bother.  The din that spilled over into the bustling streets just a floor 
below, carried thoughts about politics to poetry, religion to sex.  Big 
contemporary minds gathered there almost everyday.  Poets, painters, future 
politicians, and journalists have all said the same thing to Ramu-da: 
"coffee".

"C'mon, Didimoni, the Chicken Kabiraji is good today," he insisted.  Not 
that it made any difference to him what we ordered, but, I suppose he just 
had to ask, making sure that we ate something with our coffee.  I don't 
remember any other waiter there bothering to ask the way he did.  Not every 
big mind got that from him, I liked to believe.

"No money, Ramu-da," I looked up at him with feigned helplessness.

"To kya? Ajit khilaiga, hehehe . . ." he said with a chuckle, lapsing into 
Hindi momentarily, and turned towards him, "Kyon re?"

"What am I? Gouri Sen?" Ajit responded with indignation.

"What has happened to men these days!" Ramu-da shook his head in mock 
exasperation.

"OK, get a piece of cake for me," I said, and let him go.

"So, are you coming?" Debi asked as soon as Ramu-da left.  I could 
understand her eagerness.

"My God, Debi!" her fianc� sounded hurt, "Won't Sutapa be there?" Ajit knew 
what Debi was thinking about.

"Would I ask her over for the night if she were there?" Debi answered with a 
naughty smile, "she has gone to her friend's house in Dumdum for the 
weekend."

"Hmmm . . .  I wonder . . ." Ajit made a suggestive remark about Debi's 
sister.

"Ajit!" Debi censured him by making her big eyes even bigger.  I was amused. 
  Her voice conveyed caution that was absolutely superfluous at the Coffee 
House; for, in that place, I have never been able to overhear anybody past 
my table.

"What?" Ajit responded with the same impish grin.  He knew perfectly well 
that somebody spending the night at a friend's place did not automatically 
translate into sex, but he rarely passed up an opportunity to be lewd.

	I called home from the Coffee House, and let my Mom know that I would be 
spending the night with Debi.  She reminded me to be back early the next 
morning, as we had to visit one of my father's friend for lunch.

	We took the train.  It was packed with homebound commuters.  At the Sealdah 
station, we were virtually carried into the compartment by the crowd, and 
ended up standing in the middle of the coach.  The three of us huddled 
together, and slowly moved towards a safe corner by the wide door so that 
getting off at our destinations would not be too much of a hassle.  Debi, 
and I, being females, were distinctly at an advantage over others in 
settling down -- thanks to some still chivalrous commuters.  Ajit, being 
part of the close trio, reaped the benefit.  I felt his hard "thing" against 
one of my thighs as he shuffled his position as best as he could between his 
two female companions.  I felt my pulse quicken as he looked at us, and 
smiled.  Debi knew exactly what was going on, for we had talked about his 
"moves" in crowded transports.  The knowledge that Debi was enjoying this 
little indiscretion was not helping to calm my own libido.

	After Ajit got down at the Jadavpur station  we were standing face to face 
-- the entire lengths of our bodies pressed against each other --, and I 
could feel the heat of her body permeating into mine.  With the gentle sway 
of the locomotive, our breasts, flattening against each other, rubbed 
through the soft fabric of our clothes, and made us both hot.  I felt like 
kissing her right there among the weary commuters.  I felt like sticking my 
arm inside her saari.  I looked into her eyes, and saw the same heat there.  
I formed a word with my lips moving silently, and she responded by widening 
her eyes, feigning reproof.  I felt her hand on my buttocks, as she 
naughtily drew me closer.  It was thrilling to have our foreplay started in 
a commuter train while being kneaded by the swaying bodies all around us.

	Our juices were flowing in full gush as we were being pushed out of the 
train, and onto the platform.  Debi grabbed my hand strongly, and pulled me 
away from the crowd as the train started to pull away.  We headed towards 
the gate, and decided to walk to their house which was only a mile or so 
from the station.  It was cloudy, and rain seemed imminent, but we did not 
mind.  We welcomed the fresh air after the muggy ride on the train.

"That was naughty, Sharmi!" Debi said as we descended down the few stairs, 
and onto the street.

"Wasn't it though!" I squeezed her hand, and said.  I could feel the trickle 
down my inner thighs as we walked.

"I know," she squeezed back.

	 We took showers (no, not together . . . her parents were home), had our 
supper around eight, and, after I had dutifully fulfilled my obligation of 
exchanging niceties with her parents, we retired to her room for the night.  
I had changed into one of Debi's Maxis after the shower.  It was early by 
any standard, but then we were not in a mood to hang around the kitchen 
looking busy.

	We were all over each other even as the door was being bolted.  We had not 
been together since I returned from my trip to the wedding, and I could 
sense the longing in Debi.  I too wanted to feel her body against mine, and 
the little exhibition of our passion -- although  probably unnoticed -- 
whetted my appetite.

	I turned the table lamp on, and the shaded light cast a warmth through the 
room as if humoring our mood.  Debi walked over to me, and holding me with 
both arms, staggered towards her bed.  We lost our balance, and fell to the 
floor, laughing aloud like little kids.

	I buried my face into her deep cleavage, taking in her smell with a deep 
inhalation.  She pushed her hand into the maxi that I was wearing.  It was 
buttoned all the way down my front, and looked more like a house coat.  She 
undid several of the buttons, and her hand found my naked skin.

	Her impatient fingers caressed both my breasts passionately while I worked 
to expose hers.  With her blouse out of the way, I held one of her nipples 
between my teeth, and my tongue touched its tip.  I sensed the shiver that 
ran down Debi's body even as I felt the nipple grow and become taut.  She 
pulled me up, and kissed me passionately.  As our tongues darted in and out 
of each other's mouth,  our hands were busy unclothing ourselves.  I was out 
of my maxi in no time, but Debi had to eventually stand up to get out of her 
saari, and the rest.

	As she stood in the middle of the room in her petticoat, I looked up from 
the floor, and playfully disappeared under it, and between her legs.  My 
nose found its mark, and I nuzzled up deep into her wet love-canal;, and she 
planted her feet further apart to accommodate me between her thighs.  As I 
licked, and probed with slow, deliberate motion, she started to gyrate her 
hips, making low sounds to announce her pleasure.  My own cave was craving 
for my fingers, and I battled with my urge to oblige for as long as I could.

	I finally lost the battle gladly.  My cunt muscles gripped my two fingers 
in spasms as I licked at Debi's swollen clit under her petticoat.  I started 
lapping her up earnestly even as my own sex dripped with juice along the 
length of my digits.

"Oh . . . Oh . . . Oh . . . Sharmi . . ." I could faintly hear Debi hiss, as 
she moved, and pressed against the sides of my head with her inner thighs.  
She gasped . . . she shuddered . . ., and her legs gave.  She squeezed hard 
with her thighs, and I felt her reaching the point of no return.  I took her 
clit between my teeth, and gently caressed her buttocks with my free hand.  
As I lightly nibbled, she came helplessly, tensing up, and relaxing 
uncontrollably in fleeting successions.  I felt the unmistakable flexing of 
her thighs . . . the tightening of her buttocks . . ., and I forced my chin 
up into her,  kneading, and nibbling at the same time.  It was a short 
orgasm for her as my own cunt kept its pressure on my fingers, warning me of 
an impending resolution if I so chose.

	I chose not to.  I have always liked to prolong the sensation, and have, 
almost as a self-torment, enjoyed hovering at the brink of a climax for as 
long as my brain would allow.  So, as Debi's short, and flattering release 
made her stagger off my face, and toward her bed, I released my fingers from 
the throbbing grip.  I sat on the floor, my buttocks resting on the heels of 
my feet.  I looked at her in the subdued light of the shaded table lamp as 
she almost slumped down on the bed.  She looked unbelievably luscious lying 
topless like that.  I tasted her juice on my lips, and I smelled her sex on 
my nose.

"That was quick!" I commented, amused at the sanguine tone in my own voice.  
It is always so gratifying to prevail.

"That was, wasn't it?" she gasped out her response, "I was terribly hot."

"Why?" I asked as I stood up from the floor, and approached her.  That had 
become a rather habitual query which, till today, does not seem 'overused'.  
I knew perfectly well why she was 'hot'; for the same reason that my cunt 
was dripping!  Yet we asked each other that question to elicit the 
predictable response of recapitulation.  More often it would happen during 
our mutual pleasuring, but sometimes it also served to rekindle the fire 
after a lopsided outcome not unlike this one.

"Wow!" Debi exhaled, "Did you feel his dick?" She was referring to Ajit's 
dick, of course.

"Did you?" I asked her with a naughty grin as I sat down on the bed beside 
her.

"Sharmi, I do 'most everyday . . ." she said in a lofty tone, "I just let 
you . . . out of pity. Poor Sharmi . . .  has to be satisfied with me only . 
. ."

"That's what you think . . ." the words just escaped my mouth as I cut her 
off in the middle.

"Right . . .", and it took her a few seconds to grasp them in their context, 
"What on earth do you mean by that?" A frown replaced the mischievous smile.

"Easy, Debi . . ." I placed a hand on her petticoat-covered thigh, and said, 
"I did not mean Ajit."

"Then?" she looked more perplexed at my reassurance,  "Anyway, not that it 
mattered," she added hurriedly -- perhaps to hide the natural jealousy that 
I had been mindful of all along.

"Oh yeah?" I squeezed her thigh, and moved my hand up towards the junction 
of her legs, "You mean that I could 'feel' him myself?"

"Well, if you want to," she tried hard to sound lofty, and then added, "As 
long as I am with you."

	I suppose, had our sexual appetite not been at a similar level, Debi would 
have put her foot down a long time ago.  But, the fantasy of including me in 
their sex life had been just too powerful for her to ignore.  Furthermore, 
the lewdness of our imagination had increased several fold since Dipankar 
arrived on the scene.  Perhaps, in our minds, his ultimate inclusion was a 
given.

"Don't worry," I said, as I undid the cord of her petticoat, and started to 
lightly touch her above the pubic area, "it's somebody else." I felt the 
muscles of her stomach tighten as I ran my fingers across her trimmed silky 
triangle.  I knew at that moment that I was going to tell her all.  The fire 
burning between my legs had helped remove the last mental obstacle.  "You 
remember Sanju, don't you?" I said as I lay down beside her on my side, my 
hand never interrupting what it started.

"Sanju?" with little recognition in her voice, she asked.

"My aunt's son . . . you had met him at our place," I said, and, by the time 
I had finished narrating the first night's incident in that drawing room, 
Debi had started showing signs of heat.  My finger entered into her tunnel, 
and I felt it come alive.  She closed her eyes, and, with her breathing 
growing faster, placed one of her hands on my chest.  She took one of my 
nipples between her fingers, and gently massaged it between them.  Her hips 
started to heave, and rock as I gently slid my two fingers in, and out.  I 
stooped over her, and put my tongue inside her open mouth.  Our tongues 
played with each other for a while before she broke off her kiss, and 
panted, "Then what happened?"

	I described the afternoon tryst in as much detail as I could.  As I was 
describing Sanju's coming inside the towel, Debi rolled over on top of me, 
and started to rub her cunt on my thigh.  She had her head buried against 
the side of my neck as I was whispering the lurid details in her ear.

"Tell me more . . . Oh . . . Oh . . ." Debi panted, and I obliged.  My own 
cunt throbbing against her smooth thigh, I recalled how Sanju throbbed in my 
fist -- his semen  spurting out under the cover of the towel --, and how he 
bucked his hips in rhythm.

"Ssshhhhhhh . . . Sharmi . . . naughty . . . naughty . . .  Sharmi . . ." 
Debi's movement got faster, "Is that all? You just jacked him off?"

"No, aaaaaah . . . nnnghh . . ." I was trying to maintain my cool as I 
narrated my experience.  Every time I said his name, and  remembered, the 
flames scorched me between my legs.

"You didn't . . . Oh . . . nnnng . . . Sharmi . . . yesss . . . yessss . . . 
you . . . did you . . . ah . . . ah . . .  fuck?" she held me tight, her 
breasts massaging against mine while her undulating hips caused her soppy 
cunt to grind against my thigh.  I was almost there as I described that 
crazy night in a strained whisper -- every labored breath inching me closer, 
and closer to the zenith.  I felt her whole body quiver from time to time as 
I described how he came in my hand, and how I took the head in my mouth.  I 
could not finish describing the details before I almost screamed out in 
delight at the final rubbing of her thigh against my aching cunt.

"Aaaaa . . . aaahhhhhhhh . . . Debi . . . yesss . . . thick . . . white . . 
. sticky . . . all over me . . . oh . . . my god . . . Debi . . . come . . . 
yesss . . . yesss . . . I  . . . I . . . I . . . nnnnnnnggghhhh . . ." I 
pushed from below her to maximize the friction, and came . . ., and came . . 
., and came . . .

"You must be crazy . . .!" Debi moaned without stopping the movment, "He is 
a little boy!"

"Not anymore, Debi, not anymore," I said, panting from the exhaustion, and 
trying to get her to come.

"So, you fucked his leg . . ." Debi was close too, "Oh . . . I wish I was 
there . . . my god . . . Sharmi . . . did you . . . taste . . . his cum? How 
was it . . . fuck . . . fuck . . . fuck . . . oh . . . yeaaaaahhhnnnngggggg 
. . .", and she followed suit soon after.  Needless to say, we had graduated 
to the level where the slangs flowed freely at such times.

"My . . . God . . . Sharmi . . ." Debi's hot breath seared the side of my 
neck as she exhaled her words, "how old . . .  he is a kid . . . isn't he?" 
we still had our slippery cunts pressed against each other, and she was 
still undulating her hips in a deliberate -- if listless -- motion.  She was 
squeezing out the last bit of pleasure as she restated the obvious.

"Well . . ." I was not sure this time how to qualify my answer.  When does a 
person stop being a kid?

"Well what?" Debi gave a final shove with her cunt, and propped herself up 
on her elbows.  Our stiff nipples brushing against each other's she asked 
again, "How old is he?"

"Past fifteen, I'm sure," I said.

"Sharmi . . . this is . . . this is so naughty . . ." I distinctly felt her 
pressing her cunt down on me even as she said that.

"I know . . ." I said.

"May be you shouldn't . . . anymore," she said with a sigh as she rolled off 
me.

"Why?" I asked quite innocently.

"Why? Sharmi! He is your brother," I detected a hint of reproach in her 
voice.

"You're right, I should not," I conceded, and momentarily something flashed 
across my mind.  I sat up straight on the bed, and looked squarely at her 
eyes.  "But, why is it wrong for me, and not when Ajit, and Dipu do it . . . 
did it?"

"But . . . they were boys . . ." the way her voice trailed off, I knew she 
had momentarily realised the dissimulated logic.

"You mean it is OK for boys to do it between themselves but not so when it 
comes to a boy, and a girl?" I still retorted with some sharpness.

"I guess you are right," she said, "But just make sure you don't get into 
trouble."

"Debi, I did not let him do it, did I?" I tried to assure her but I didn't 
sound too resolute to myself.  Debi picked up on it too.

"Sharmi . . ." she frowned, and looked at my eyes with concern, "are you 
sure you will be able to resist it next time when you are alone with him?"

"Well, why don't I call you up then," I laughed out loud as I said that.

"Don't be naughty," she said, and finished with an equally mischievous grin, 
and a wink "but that may not be a bad idea!"

	That night we made love some more after Debi insisted on hearing about 
Sanju again.  As I described in more detail -- mixing little fantasies -- 
she, and I rubbed each other with our hands, and finished up in a 
sixty-nine.  Spent, we drifted off to sleep with our heads resting 
comfortably on each other's thighs.

+++++++++++++  End Part 17.

'Gouri Sen' : A name, I believe, gleaned from the mythological goddess of 
plenty whose pots are never empty (Gouri, one of the incarnations of Goddess 
Durga).  The 'Sen' is just a surname flippantly added.  An equivalent in 
American  would be "What am I, the Fort Knox?" This is my take on it, since 
I never asked anybody about its etymology.
<7th attachment end>


<8th attachment, "MS18.TXT" begin>

The repost continues:
++++++++++++++++++++


I am immensely grateful for the encouragement, critique and corrections I 
receive from the readers.  Take, for example, my naive hypothesis about the 
cliched reference to 'Gouri Sen'.  Well, as pointed out by one of the 
readers, I was utterly ignorant about the origin of the phrase that I myself 
have used so often.  One of the more informed readers has pointed out that, 
at the turn of the last century, there indeed lived a wealthy and 
over-zealous philanthropic 'landlord' in Kolkata (erstwhile Calcutta), so 
named, who could not turn away anybody in need.  Thereof was coined the 
popular locution: "Need money? There's always Gouri Sen!" (loosely 
translated).  Of course, since presently I am not privy to a comprehensive 
history of the city , I will accept this legend at its face value.  
Furthermore, this revision is a direct result of a quick feedback from my 
unofficial - but indispensible - proof- reader/editor Sir PJ, and a quick 
note about a spelling mistake from another reader from half way around the 
globe

Please visit my ftp site at ASSTR.  Please write at <anu_g42@hotmail.com> 
with comments and corrections.

WARNING:  Do not proceed beyond this "warning"  if you are not a mature 
person and/or are  offended by explicit written descriptions of sexual 
encounters.
++++++++++++++++++++++++++





My Story (Part 18) by Sharmila Sanyal.

	A few months later it was the Puja festival and, after the Lakshmi Puja, 
Sanju came over for a couple of weeks.  From the very first day, he was 
behaving like an infant waiting for the candy he was promised.  Who could, 
in good conscience, blame a boy his age when, with the memories of our 
intimacy, it was hard for 'yours truly' too.  Believe me, I tried my utmost 
not to think about it!

	It would be virtually impossible for us to get that close in our house.  
Sanju and I both were certainly past the age when we would have been able to 
share the same room at night . . . and, assuredly by no specific design, the 
two of us never found ourselves 'alone' in the house.

	I tried my best not to appear too eager, for I did not want to give Sanju 
reason to believe that I myself was looking forward to some hanky panky as 
much as he was.

	Debi dropped by one day during that week and later confessed to me -- 
albeit in her usual raillery -- that Sanju indeed had grown into an 
attractive young man and that she wouldn't mind sharing him with me.  Her 
visit -- a very social one at that -- and our ensuing discussions revolving 
around my cousin did little to help curb the want.

	By the fifth day, when we had no opportunity to be alone, I suggested to my 
Mom quite boldly, that I would take Sanju out.  While to my guilty mind it 
surely sounded like an excuse, to anybody of a sane mind it was a very 
simple and natural gesture.  That's what cousins did.  So we were off to the 
local 'park' that evening.

"So, Sanju, what have you been up to?" I asked like a big sister.

"Nothing," he answered.

"Nothing?" I said, a bit interrogatively I must confess, as we walked side 
by side through the sea of people out to take in the revelry of this very 
Bengali autumn festival.  Although most of the cloth-and-bamboo structures 
for the Puja were taken down, a few, more elaborate constructions remained - 
as they usually do - to afford the less enthused locals a chance to view, if 
they so chose, the incredible artistry.  Blaring loudspeakers with blended, 
indecipherable, Bollywood film songs poured in from every direction, while 
occasional pieces from Tagore or Nazrul tried to sneak in from some remote 
streets.  The cacophony helped us steer our conversation towards the 
intended earthly direction without the risk of being overheard.

"Read any good books lately?" I asked.

"Yeah, Shankar's latest . . . didn't like it, though," he said.

"I am not asking about Shankar or Tagore, Sanju .  .  ." I looked sideways 
at his face and smiled impishly.

"Shona-di!" - hie hissed, his voice showing the shock mixed with with 
excitement.

"What?"

"People will hear," his voice showed genuine concern.  Being from a small 
town, he was lost in the circus.  Looking at the crowds, he had reservations 
about venturing out on an evening like this.

"Don't worry, kiddo," I had to assure him, "nobody hears us in this noise." 
I delivered a short lecture about the advantage of the immensity of the 
crowd and its inherent boon in imparting virtual anonymity.  "So, did you 
read any new ones?" I insisted.

"Yeah . . . " Sanju said with a grin, "and one of them was about a brother 
and a sister .  .  ."

"Oh yeah?" I pictured Sanju reading and masturbating.  I started to flow.  I 
wasn't even sure where we were going and what we were going to do once we 
reached there.  "I want to listen to the story," I almost had to shout as we 
passed a 'mandap' and its two huge speakers.

Sanju waited for the auditory assault to wane, and started to narrate the 
story.  I stopped him.  "Not now, I can hardly hear a word," I said and 
looked at him.  I caught him peering  down my the blouse I was wearing over 
my long, knee-length skirt.  "Sanju!" I widened my eyes at him in mock 
censure.

"Sorry, Shona-di." he smiled with unabashed lust in his eyes, "couldn't help 
it."

"Look at other girls," I continued to be flippant too, "there are better 
ones around in this crowd."

"No, none as beautiful." I was impressed at his directness, and, admittedly, 
quite pleased by his admiration -- however unctuous in intent it might have 
been.

	We reached the local park.  Ordinarily it would be the site of a Puja 
'mandap', but a few years back, the puja committee had a fight early on, and 
decided not to have any at all.  They never went back to using that park 
again.  As I understand it, the park is no more either.  A high-rise 
apartment building stands there instead.

		  We sat down under a tree, facing away from the street.  There were a few 
other couples that had already staked out spots in more secluded spots.  
From where we sat, we could see a couple oblivious to the world and locked 
in a tight embrace.

"My God!" Sanju exclaimed in a low voice.

"Why . . . they have every right to be here," I said.

"No, not them . . . them," and he gestured  towards the other side.

"Oh!  Eeeeeshhhh!" it was my turn to inhale deeply.

	About fifty feet directly to Sanju's left, against a low-cut hedge, a man 
was lying flat on his back while a woman was on top of him.  Doubled over,  
she was straddling his waist.  It was hard to tell if he had his pants on, 
but I could easily see that the woman's sari was riding high around her 
waist, leaving her legs bare.  We could make out a slow rhythmic movement 
from the duo.  I had never seen a live show like that, and, as embarrassing 
as it was to have to watch, it immediately lit a full blown fire between my 
legs.  The couple was very well hidden from the street and the spot was 
rather poorly lit to figure out too much.  Nonetheless, the silhouette of 
the couple in that unmistakable coital pose would have been enough to light 
my fire anyway.  It did, only to be rudely doused by somebody sweeping a 
powerful flashlight across and over the bushes.  My heart stopped as the 
beam of the light momentarily swept over the couple we were watching 
intently.  I was embarrassed for the woman as the light fleetingly 
transformed the suggestive silhouette into a real couple engaged in sex!  
From what I could see, the man was fully clothed.  It wasn't hard to imagine 
the arrangement.

"Ooooof!" Sanju exclaimed under his breath.

"Let's get out of here, Sanju," I said as I stood up.  The flashlight could 
have belonged to a constable or a prankster, and I wasn't about to find out 
for myself.

"But .  .  ." Sanju was obviously in two minds and I believe, owing to his 
excitement, leaning a little towards being bold.

"No, no . . . you don't understand, we'll have to leave," I felt my voice 
shake in utter panic.

"Oh OK .  .  ." he gave in.  I suppose some of his blood managed to sneak 
back up into his brain.

	Without a  word, we exited the park the way we entered.  My heart was 
racing and I looked straight ahead to avoid making eye contact with anybody 
that we might come face to face with.  All my bravado under the supposed 
anonymity had evaporated with one flash of a beam of light.  I was still 
sexually aroused, but I felt cold with apprehension.

"Shona-di!" Sanju said calmly, "will you relax please!" His voice sounded 
calm coming from behind.  I guess I was almost running and he was trying to 
keep up with me without appearing to be running.  I didn't slow down my pace 
till I reached the street.  A few passers by glanced at me and then at my 
cousin behind me and frowned.  I suppose they wondered about the breathless 
look on my face exiting the park.

"Lets go home, Sanju!" I deliberately raised my voice as I realised that 
some young men were about to come to my aid.  I most certainly didn't fit 
the crowd of revellers on the street.

"Let's .." Sanju took the cue from me and announced equally aloud for the 
benefit of those that had been staring at us, "It's too crowded out here, 
Shona- di!" That extra bit -- though unnecessary -- helped, and people left 
us alone.

	I grabbed Sanju's hand and virtually dragged him through the throng, and 
towards our house.  As my palpitation subsided, I admitted to myself that 
the mere thought of getting caught with Sanju in the park was what spooked 
me.  Consequently, I had to admit that I had the raunchiest intentions . . . 
and that had me back in my aroused state again.

"Hurry up, Sanju, lets go home!" I said impatiently and increased the pace 
of my walk, wading -- as it were -- against the sea of people.

"I thought . . . I thought .  .  ." the disappointment in his voice was so 
obvious that I couldn't pass up the opportunity to torment him some more.

"What?" I said, "You didn't think . . . Oh my God, Sanju!  Were you 
expecting .  .  .?"

"Never mind, Shona-di," he looked away and snatched his hand away from me.

"Angry, are we?" I grabbed his hand again as we kept on moving.  I am sure 
by our demeanor we looked like two lovers in the midst of a quarrel.  "I'm 
sorry."

"You are terrible, you know," he tried to sound cold, but the tremor in his 
voice gave his frustration away.

"OK . . . OK . . . lets go home first .  .  ." I said in a manner akin to 
that of a parent promising candy to her toddler.  Well, in a manner of 
speaking . . .

	As we reached home, I was dripping with anticipation.  I felt the crotch of 
my panties sticking to the entrance to my soppy cave.  Impulsively, I had 
clipped my hair that morning while I was in the bathroom.  I felt terribly 
sexy thinking about it.

	As we went up to our floor, I saw my parents dressed up to go out.  "We are 
going out for some quick shopping, Sharmi," Baba said, "We didn't think you 
two will be back so soon."

"Too crowded," I said, "Sanju didn't like the melee."

"OK, we'll be back in a couple of hours," Ma said as they descended the 
stairs, "I told Abha to start the rice around half-past eight."

We went to the balcony and saw them leave the house.

	That was it!  My heart started pounding at the thought of being all by 
ourselves.

	We were really not alone in the house, for my uncles and aunts were there 
downstairs; but, we were alone, save Abha, on our floor.  I turned and 
looked at Sanju, and saw a very knowing smile there.

"What?" I said to him, smiling back.

"Nothing," he said, "just thinking that we are all by ourselves now."

"So?" I played along.  I was burning up even as I stepped back into the 
drawing room from the balcony!  With Sanju at my heels, I reached the 
stairs.

"So?" he echoed, and followed me as I continued on up the stairs . . . up.

	I spotted Abha-maashi, our live-in maid,  busy in the kitchen as I 
continued up the stairs.  "We will be on the roof, Abha-maashi." Slightly 
hard of hearing, she did not respond.  I wondered if she even knew that we 
were home.  Still, I couldn't take any chances and considered the roof a 
much safer place.

	Once on the roof, I closed and bolted the door behind us.  The night sky 
was aglow from the festive lightings that draped the city.  We could see 
each other clearly in that light that reflected off the smog.

"So, what did you think of the show in the park?" I asked.

"Hot!"

"How hot? Did you get hard?" I couldn't help it.

"I did . . . I am .  .  ." he looked into my eyes and said.

"Let's see?" I said, and touched him there . . . at the fly.  I felt his 
bulge and felt it pulsate at my touch.  Sanju stood there in front of me 
looking down at my hand.  "Wow," I looked up at his eyes and said, "it's 
moving!"

He said nothing.

+++++ (End Part 18)

To be Continued . . .

Puja Festival: This is essentially a month-long (two lunar cycles) autumn 
festival beginning with the worship of the 'Durga' form (Shiva's consort) of 
the Divine Mother.  She is the ten-armed deity who vanquishes 'the bad' (or 
'suffering') [du'h (Sansk.) = a prefix meaning bad/difficult/evil, etc.].  
The festival ends with the much known 'Deepaavali' or the 'festival of 
lights' that coincides with the worship of 'Kaalee' in Bengal.  There are 
countless other folklores and mythologies associated with the festival that 
are beyond the scope of this narration.
<8th attachment end>


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